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Illustrated Magazine 

For Young Folks. 

Part II. — May to October, 1908. 



Copyright, 1908, by The Century Co. 

The De Vinne Press. 

Library, Una v. o> 
North Caroii»« 




Six Months — May to October, 1908. 


Admiral's Last Voyage, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Mary Eleanor Roberts . . . 587 

Aeronaut's Journal, Extract from an. Picture, drawn by B. N. Salg 613 

Album of the League 656, 752, 848 

"Alice in Wonderland" ; How It Came to be Written. (Illustrated) Helen Marshall Pratt .... 1012 

Alpine Guides. (Illustrated from photographs) Day Allen Willey 972 

At School. Verse. (Illustrated by T. Nell) Ethel Kelley 994 

August. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) May Aiken 898 

Automobile Race, At the. Picture, drawn by J. B. Graft 1063 

Base-ball Season, The First Match of the. Picture, drawn by Harold 

Hopping 703 

Battle of the Survivors, The. (Illustrated by the Author) Frank Stick 1069 

Both Sides of the Fence. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) May Aiken 996 

Boy Builders, The. (Illustrated from photographs) Charles Barnard 710 

Boys as Policemen. (Illustrated from photographs) T. R. Porter and 

Elisabeth Sears 1107 

Boy's Paradise in the Pacific, A. (Illustrated from photographs) Alexander Hume Ford . . . 876 

Boy who Rode on the First Train, The. (Illustrated) .Mary K. Maule 899 

Brave Hussar, The. (Illustrated) Everett Wilson 714 

Breaking Them In. Verse. (Illustrated by E. H. Chamberlain) Nancy Byrd Turner 696 

British Home Connected with American History, A. (Illustrated from 

photographs) Deshler Welch 1091 

Carnarvon, At. Verse Cornelia Charming Ward . 794 

Carroll, Lewis. (Illustrated) Helen Marshall Pratt .... 1078 

Cherry Ripe. Verse. (Illustrated by E. M. Wireman) Walter Prichard Eaton . . . 813 

Concrete Houses. ("The Boy Builders") Charles Barnard 710 

Conway Dinner, The. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Elizabeth Price 1102 

Croquet. Picture, drawn by Agnes M. Choate 790 

Cruise of the Jigamaree, The. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) C. F. Lester 908 

Divers of a Navy and Their Adventures, The. (Illustrated from 

photographs) W.G. Fits Gerald 915 

Dog with the Brown Bow, The Little. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) .... Temple Bailey 1059 

Dorothea's School Gifts. (Illustrated by Blanche V. Fisher) Eunice Ward 967 

Dosia's Day. (Illustrated by C. M. Relyea) Margaret Johnson 867 

Every-day Verses. (Illustrated by Emilie Benson Knipe) Alden Arthur Knipe 

Spring 608 

Thirsty Flowers 610 

Sharing with Others 610 

Recess 611 

After School 611 

^""Monday's Lessons 61 1 

5 Finger-nails 734 


At Dinner 

<f Al turner 73S 

— A Little Gentleman 833 



Helping 833 

Time for Everything 833 

A New Baby 834 

Summer 834 

Staying Up Late 926 

After Tea 927 

A Bath 1022 

Bedtime 1023 

A Warning 1118 

Brushing Teeth 1 1 18 

Not Afraid in the Dark 1 1 19 

Examples. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Rudolf F. Bunner 989 

Fairies and Pirates, As to. Verse /. Warren Merrill 638 

Fairyland Messenger, A. Picture, drawn by Albertine Randall Wheelan 811 

First Day of School, The. Verse Edna Kingsley Wallace . . 1004 

First Train, The Boy Who Rode on the. (Illustrated) Mary K. Maule 899 

Flag, For the. (Illustrated by C. -M. Relyea) Mary Wells 771 

Flower of the Sun, The. (Illustrated by Remington Schuyler) Alice M. Long 1071 

Fourth in Noisyville, The. Verse Nancy Byrd Turner 793 

Freddy's First Rescue George E. Walsh 607 

Frosted Party-Cake, The. (Illustrated by Johnanna Stewart Mapes) Harriet Mendenhall 921 

Fulton, Robert. (Illustrated by W. J. Scott) Rupert Sargent Holland . . 779 

Garden, The. Verse. (Illustrated) Kate Hudson 579 

Garibaldi. (Illustrated by W. J. Scott) Rupert Sargent Holland . . 997 

Gentle Interference of Bab, The. (Illustrated by Florence E. Storer) Agnes McClelland Daulton 614 

704, 807 

Giant Cracker, The. Picture, drawn by E. C. Caswell 814 

Glorious Fourth, The. Verse Florence R. Faxon 822 

Good Cheer Inn, At. (Illustrated by Julie C. Pratt) Pearl Howard Campbell . . 676 

"Guardian." Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan) Elsie Hill 727 

Guessing Song. Verse Henry Johnstone 832 

Happychaps, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Harrison Cady) '. Carolyn Wells 633 

729, 827, 928, 1017, 1 1 13 

Harry's Island. (Illustrated by C M. Relyea) Ralph Henry Barbour . . . 590 

685, 782, 884, 980, 1083 

Hawaii. ("A Boy's Paradise") Alexander Hume Ford . . . 876 

Hints and Helps for "Mother." (Illustrated) 

The May-pole Pie Adclia B. Beard 630 

The Orange-tree Pie 641 

A Horn of Plenty 642 

Old Envelop Toys " 736 

Paper False-faces 1024 

Little Twig People 1121 

Historic Boyhoods. (Illustrated by W. J. Scott) Rupert Sargent Holland . . 

Robert Fulton : the Boy of the Conestoga 779 

Garibaldi : the Boy of the Mediterranean 997 

Peter the Great : the Boy of the Kremlin 1064 

Hoarding of the Waters, The Frederick Hall 9°5 

House that Was Saved by the Flag, A. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall 

Wheelan and from a photograph) Fairfax H. Wheelan 791 

Hundred Years from Now, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) Sarah Noble Ives 812 

Icebergs. (Illustrated from photographs) Day Allen Willey 679 

Indian Chiefs, Famous. (Illustrated by George Varian) Maj.-Gen. O. O. Howard . 

Alaska Indian Chiefs 622 

Captain Jack 624 

The Great War-chief Joseph °97 

Moses 7oo 



Winnemucca 815 

Toc-me-to-ne, an Indian Princess 818 

The Princess Sarah. (By Col. C. E. S. Wood) 820 

Lot, a Spokane Chief 9 1 1 

Red Cloud 912 

Cut-Mouth John 1005 

Homili 1007 

Washakie 1009 

Sitting-Bull ■ • 1094 

Geronimo • • 1098 

Indian Chiefs, Two. Pictures, drawn by G. Ellka 1011 

Invitation, An. Verse. (Illustrated by George Varian) Edith Sanford Tillotson . . 675 

Josephine and "Violet," Her Favorite Doll. From a portrait, by E. Plaisted 

Abbott 904 

July. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) May Aiken 806 

June. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) May Aiken 709 

Jungleville, An Airship in. Pictures, drawn by I. W. Taber 1 100 

Jungleville Ferry, A. Pictures, drawn by I. W. Taber 990 

Jungleville, The Royal Circus in. Pictures, drawn by I. W. Taber 694 

Katrina. Verse. (Illustrated by E. W. R. Wireman) Stella George Stern 588 

Kittens' Surprise, The Little. Pictures, drawn by Culmer Barnes 717 

Lewis Carroll : The Friend of Children. (Illustrated) Helen Marshall Pratt .... 1078 

Little Diplomat, A. (Illustrated by Sarah Noble Ives) Mary V. Worst ell 924 

Little Old Man in the Automobile, The. Verse. (Illustrated by 

Florence E. Storer ) • • . . Cornelia Walter McCleary 883 

Look Before You Leap. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) C. J. Budd 1099 

Lullaby, The. Picture, drawn by Mary Sigsbee Ker 614 

Magician, A. Verse. (Illustrated) Eunice Ward 1109 

May. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) May Aiken 606 

Midsummer Days. Pictures, drawn by Arthur T. Merrick 902 

Might Makes Right. Picture, drawn by Arthur T. Merrick 993 

Miss Gingham of Hingham. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Arthur Upson 894 

Miss Pickaninny. Picture, drawn by Ethel M. Kendal 794 

Moving Pictures in Kittentown. Pictures, drawn by Culmer Barnes 1 1 10 

Naughty Johnnie Frost. Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall 

Wheelan) Isabel Ecclestone Mackay.1070 

Netters, The Young. (Illustrated by J. C. Vondrous) George Whitefield D'Vys . 580 

Nonsense Rhyme. Verse Arthur Macy 806 

October. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) May Aiken 1074 

Only Child, An. Picture, drawn by C. J. Budd 716 

Patriots, The. Verse Eunice Ward 813 

Peacemaker, The. (Illustrated by George Varian) Frank Lillie Pollock 963 

Peppery Man, The. Verse , Arthur Macy 814 

Peter the Great. (Illustrated by W. J. Scott) Rupert Sargent Holland. .1064 

Points of View. Verse. (Illustrated by John Rae) Nancy Byrd Turner 874 

Proud Princess and the Ugly Prince, The. (Illustrated by L. F. A. Lorenz) B. J. Daskam 627 

Puzzle, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) C. F. Lester 1120 

Queen of the Water-lilies, The. Picture 921 

Raleigh, The Home of Sir Walter. (Illustrated) Deshler Welch 1091 

Rescue of a Red-coat, The. (Illustrated by H. A. Ogden) Grace E. Craig 823 

"Robinson's." ("A Village in the Treetops") W. G. Fits Gerald 584 

Round Trip Ticket, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) A. M. Choate 995 

School, At. (Illustrated by T. Nell) Ethel Kelley 994 

School-boys, French and American. Pictures, drawn by Emma Troth 978 

September. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) May Aiken 1074 

Seventh Birthday of the Little Cousin from Constantinople, The. 

(Illustrated by Florence E. Storer ) Emma C. Dowd 1 1 1 1 



Ship-builder, The. Verse. (Illustrated from a photograph) Albert Bigelow Paine .... 977 

Singing-Boys of Jena, The. (Illustrated from photographs) Arthur Upson 1075 

Social Season, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan) . . Catherine Markham 620 

Strong Man, A. Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) C. F. Lester 702 

Submarine, The. ("The Under-seas Sailor and his Boat") A. W. Rolker 797 

Submarine, The Story of the. (Illustrated by I. W. Taber) William O. Stevens 795 

Summer Snowstorm, A. Verse. (Illustrated by H. S. Adams) Edith Sanford Tillotson . . 693 

Suppose. Verse. (Illustrated by William A. Bertram) Edward N. Teall 713 

"Sweethearts." From a painting by W. T. Smedley 971 

Talisman, The Ida Kenniston 992 

Tenting. Verse Charles P. Cleaves 898 

Three "Ifs." Verse Louise M. Berry 715 

Three Years Behind the Guns. (Illustrated) L. G. T. 599, 718 

Toy War-ship of a Young Prince, The. (Illustrated from photographs) . . W. G. Fits Gerald 612 

Tragedy, A. Verse. (Illustrated by R. B. Birch) Doris Webb 598 

Two Go A-Riding. Verse. (Illustrated by Geo. A. Harker) Nancy Byrd Turner 919 

Under-seas Sailor and his Boat, The. (Illustrated from photographs and 

by I. W. Taber) A.W. Rolker 797 

Useful Camera, The. Verse. (Illustrated by Ruth M. Hallock) Rosamund Lang 882 

Vacation is Over ! Picture, drawn by C. L. Van Vredenburgh 1000 

Very Handy Inventor-man, A. (Illustrated by the Author) R. F. Bunncr 922 

Village in the Tree-tops, A. (Illustrated from photographs) W. G. Fits Gerald 584 

Walter Harvey— Coward. (Illustrated by C. T. Hill) Martin M.. Foss 1001 

Which Hand Is It In? Verse. (Illustrated by the Author) C. F. Lester 702 

Whose Toadstool Is This, Anyhow? Picture, designed by Bess B. Cleave- 

land 897 

Woodchuck Hole, The. Picture, drawn by Wm. T. Van Dresser 778 

Yellow City Lights, The. Verse. (Illustrated by W. J. Scott) Miriam Clark 1067 

Young Netters, The. (Illustrated by J. C Vondrous) George Whitefield D'Vys . 580 


"A Little Queen o' May," by C. M. Relyea, facing page 579 —"The Great College Boat-race As It May 
Soon Be ' Rowed,' " by A. T. Merrick, facing page 675 — "Where There 's a Will There 's a Way," by 
Harry B. Lachman, facing page 771— "A Breezy August Morning," by George T. Tobin, facing page 867— 
"Roller Skates," by Elizabeth Sparhawk-Jones, facing page 963— "At the Piano," by Francis Day, facing 
page 1059. 


For Very Little Folk. (Illustrated.) 

The Bear Family at Home Hon. Curtis D. Wilbur . . . 644 

740, 836 

The Fox Boys Culmer Barnes 743 

Little Mothers Lucy Foster 933 

A Little Boy's Summer Emily H. Leland 1028 

Big Enough to Go Swimming Alone. Picture 1031 

The Little Pink Pig and the Big Road J. S. Van Dresser 1125 

Plays and Music. 

The Bumble Bee \ William H ' Gardner .... 896 

( George T. Goldthzvaite 

St. -Nicholas League. (Illustrated) 658, 754, 850, 944, 1040, 1136 

Nature and Science. (Illustrated) 648, 744, 840, 936, 1032, 1128 

The Letter-box. (Illustrated) 668, 765, 860, 956, 1052, 1148 

The Riddle-box. (Illustrated) 671, 767, 863, 959, 1055, "51 

Editorial Notes 670, 764, 956 

[The entire contentsof this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission.] 


Frontispiece. A Little Queen o' May. Drawn by CM. Relyea Page 

The Garden. Verse Kate Hudson 579 

The Young Netters. Story George Whitefleld D'Vys 580 * 

Illustrated by J. C. Vondrous. 

A Village in the Tree-Tops. Sketch w. c. Fitz-Geraid 584 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

The Admiral's Last Voyage. Verse Mary Eleanor Roberts 587 

Illustrated from Photograph. 

Katrina. Verse Stella George Stern 588 

Illustrated by E. W. R.Wireman. 
Harry's Island. Serial Story Ralph Henry Barbour 590 

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 
A Tragedy. Verse Doris Webb 598 

_ Illustrated by Reginald Birch. 

Three Years Behind the Guns. The True Chronicles of a "Diddy- 

Box." Serial Story "L. G. T." 599 

Illustrated by Chris. Jorgensen, and from Photographs. 

May. Verse May Aiken 606 

Illustrated by the Author. 

Freddy's First Rescue. Story G. E. Walsh 607 

Spring. Verse Alden Arthur Knipe 608 

Illustrated by Emilie Benson Knipe. 

Every-Day Verses Alden Arthur Knipe 

Thirsty Flowers. Sharing with Others 610 

Recess. After School. Monday's Lessons 611 

_ Illustrated by Emilie Benson Knipe. 

The Toy War-Ship of a Young Prince. Sketch w. G. F 612 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

Extract from an Aeronaut's Journal. Picture. Drawn by B. N. saig 613 

The Lullaby. Picture. Drawn by Mary Slgsbee Ker 614 

The Gentle Interference of Bab. Serial Story Agnes McClelland Dauiton. . 614 

Illustrated by Florence E. Storer. 

The Social Season. Verse Catherine Markham 620 

Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan. 

Famous Indian Chiefs Maj.-cen. o. o. Howard 

IX. Alaska Indian Chiefs : Fernandeste, Sitka Jack, 

and Anahootz 622 

X. Captain Jack: Chief of the Modoc Indians 624 

Illustrated by George Varian. 

The Proud Princess and the Ugly Prince. Story b. j. Daskam 627 

Illustrated by L. F. A. Lorenz. 

The Happychaps. Happychapter 5. Verse Carolyn Wells 633 

Illustrated by Harrison Cady. 

As to Fairies and Pirates. Verse, by J. Warren Merrill 638 

Hints and Helps for "Mother." Rainy Day Amusements in the 

Nursery. Fourteenth Paper. " Birthday Pies " Adella Belle Beard 639 

Illustrated by the Author. 

For Very Little Folk. The Bear Family at Home Curtis D. Wilbur 

The Story of the Coming of a Very Hard-Working 

Animal 644 

The Coming of the Animal with the Big Shaggy Head 646 

Illustrated by George Varian. 

Nature and Science for Young Folks 648 


The Album of the League 656 

The St. Nicholas League. Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems, 

Drawings, and Photographs 658 


The Letter-Box... 668 

Editorial 670 

The Riddle-Box 671 

The Century Co. and its editors receive manuscripts and art material, submitted for publica- 
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•while in their possession or in transit. Copies of manuscripts should be retained by the authors. 

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Vol. XXXV 

MAY, 1908 

Copyright, 1908, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 

No. 7 



In sun-kissed islands, leagues and leagues away, 
There lies a garden bright with flowers gay, 
And in the garden grows a stately tree ; 

Beneath the tree's green branches widely spread 
And bearing flowers, white and pink and red, 
An arbor stands built of carved ivory; 

And in the arbor there 's a table, made 

'Of fragrant sandalwood and all inlaid 

With rings and curlicues of ebony; 

This matchless table does a casket hold 
Fashioned of rubies set in ruddy gold 

And fastened with a diamond-studded key; 

And if you turn the key, and open wide 
The golden casket, you will find inside 
A parchment scroll, on which these words you '11 see : 

i i un , m < mm > " 

Oh, boy or girl, <whate'er your name may be- 
Vincent or Rupert, Maude or Marjorie, — 
Be truthful, faithful, helpful, full of glee; 
Be kind, be good — and you Tuill ha.ppy be." 



"Mr. Hardy! Mr. Hardy!" 

A boy sprang into the narrow street, and vig- 
orously waved his cap at an approaching motor- 

The car came to a stop beside him, and the 
driver called cheerily: "How are you Billie-boy ! 
Anything special?" 

"Yes, sir," came the quick answer. "Meeting 
you has saved me the ten-mile tramp to your 
house and back, for father wanted me to go over 
and tell you about the three hundred dollars he 
owes you." 

"What about it?" the words were crisp and 
sharp, while the features of the speaker became 
stern and cold. 

"He says," the boy continued manfully, "that 
on the first of last month when he could n't pay 
you anything, he promised double payment this 
month, but — " 

"But he cannot, eh?" interrupted the motorist, 
somewhat icily. "Well, then, how much has he 
for me?" 

"Nothing, sir," was the quiet answer. "And 
the fact is, Mr. Hardy, he is almost completely 
discouraged. He counted on the early mackerel, 
you know, sir. He fitted out the sloop and started 
south with the seiners and other netters, but from 
Hatteras to Cape May not a school of fish was 
sighted by any of them. Three quarters of them 
never even wet a line, sir, so finally they all re- 
turned home in disgust. They claim it the most 
disastrous trip for — " 

"Yes, yes, I 've heard all that, Billie," broke in 
Mr. Hardy hurriedly. "Where is your father 

"He had n't the money to refit the sloop," the boy 
answered readily, "so he is going as seine-bearer 
for Ted Bigelow on the Marion C. The whole 
fleet is refitting with a rush, and will start away 
this very afternoon — headed this time for the 
Nova Scotia coast." 

"On the strength of some newspaper report 
probably !" 

"No, sir, not that. Two haddockers came in 
and each reported seeing two of the Gloucester 
fleet racing from off that way, to be first to the 
New York market with their catches. One had 
twenty barrels, the — " 

"Yes, yes, I understand," Mr. Hardy again in- 
terrupted. All tomfoolery, all tomfoolery, every 
bit of it ! That 's my idea ! I 'm a lawyer, and 
not a fisherman, Billie, but I venture to say that 

what the fleet will go chasing after two hundred 
miles away are right here at our own back door. 
That 's my idea ! They 've been scared offshore 
down there in those southern waters, I take it, 
and no doubt the set toward the New England 
coast began a week or more ago, so that for 
somebody hereabouts large catches will be the 
order of things. That 's my idea. 

"Now, then — about that money. I 've always 
liked you, Billie-boy, and in order that your 
father might keep you at school I loaned the 
money to him to buy the sloop after he 'd lost 
his schooner on the Grand Banks, but frankly 
I 'm tired of his dilly-dallying methods. The 
trouble is he 's lost his grip; the tide of adversity 
is sweeping him off his feet and he has n't taken 
an overgrasp so that he can hang on and eventu- 
ally win out. What I say is this : no matter how 
dark things look don't lose your grip. Hang on 
to the situation and something will surely hap- 
pen ; that 's my idea ! 

"Now about the Nettie Ann; there 's another 
party after the sloop, Billie, and I am carrying to 
your father a notice to the effect that he must 
live up to the conditions of the sale and pay me 
the money long overdue at or before noon to- 
morrow or lose the craft. You understand? At 
high noon to-morrow, I get my money or take the 
sloop ! I intend to deliver my notice in person. 
Would you like to ride along with me ?" 

"No, I 'm not going home just yet," the boy 
answered slowly, as he stepped back upon the 
plank walk again, and as one bewildered gazed 
after the blue car now rapidly disappearing. 

"Hello, Billie!" sounded a voice just behind 
him. "I 'm dead sorry — honest !" 

Willie Mitchell wheeled sharply. At his right 
stood a bright, sturdy lad, his dark clear eyes 
flashing angrily while his deep tanned face be- 
spoke the sympathy he had voiced. 

"Hulloh, Bob — you here?" Billie said con- 

"Yes, I came along just in time to hear those 
last words. I was headed for your house. I 'm 
all alone ; mother 's gone down to Wellfleet for a 
day or so, and dad is scudding around Long 
Point, the first of the fleet to get away, too." 
Bob said this rather proudly, adding: "Have you 
heard the news, Billie?" 

"What news?" 

"A lot of Harvard chaps came in on the morn- 
ing train. I believe they call themselves the His- 


library, Univ. of 




tology class, whatever that is. Anyway, they 've 
jogged out the State highway intending to take 
the back shore at Race Point. The talk is that 
some big-wig at the college has offered cash 
prizes for odd things in animal and plant life, so 
the class came here on their spring vacation." 

Billie was not yet wholly recovered from his 
discomfiture at the lawyer's parting words. He 
listened as one but little interested, yet murmured 
disdainfully, "Hah, what plant or animal life is 
there on the dunes, or on our back shore?" 

"Oh, they '11 find things all right," Bob declared 
with energy. "It 's a walking laboratory, Billie. 
Microscopic and a lot more things we chaps 
down here would n't know how to handle, or 
want to know perhaps, but that 's not what I 'm 
driving at. George Corea met them and he says 
it 's fine — they 're out for fun, all of them, and 
there 's high jinks every minute — pranks on each 
other — college yells and songs, and — but I say, 
Billie, let 's trudge over to Race Point and see 
the show ourselves. Will you?" 

Billie seemed lost to the words as he gazed 
afar out over the placid waters of the beautiful 
harbor. Suddenly, however, he roused himself. 
"I can't, Bob — that 's a fact ! I 've heard all you 
said, but all the while I 've been thinking of what 
Mr. Hardy said to me just now. He said while 
the fleet was chasing some two hundred miles 
after them, he believed the fish were right here at 
our back door. I 've got an idea, Bob, it 's this : 
Josh Hardy is a mighty shrewd man. He 's what 
they call a close observer. He is n't a fisherman, 
as he says, but his fathers before him were, and 
no doubt he knows a lot more about the business 
than he lets on. Anyway, I 'm going to act on 
his suggestion. I 'm going out to the grounds in 
the Nettie Ann! Father 's away now and it 's 
up to me to save the sloop. Yes," he repeated de- 
terminedly, "I '11 save the sloop ! I '11 do it now, 

"Alone?" queried Bob in wonderment. 

"No ! Not if you '11 come with me! Will you? 
Dare you? Dare you?" 

Billie was intensely excited and his keen eyes 
searchingly scanned the face of the boy before 

Billie was a tall, husky lad; every ounce of his 
well-knit frame seemed to be bone or muscle. 
In school athletics he was a tower of strength 
alike on diamond and gridiron, and therefore was 
a general favorite among the boys. 

Two years his junior, considerably shorter in 
stature, yet none the less sturdy, was Rob Tay- 
lor. Both were Provincetown boys. Province- 
town is essentially a fishing town, about half a 
dozen fisheries contributing to its maintenance, 

and so each had been born and reared in the ex- 
citing atmosphere of sea-going life. 

Bob was quick to answer Billie's question. In 
a quiet businesslike way he said, "I 'm your man, 
Billie. When shall we start?" 

"Right now, Bob ! You go down to the wharf, 
will you, and get the oars and all the truck out of 
the shed and into the dory. I '11 skip home for 
the food part of it and the toggery and to mention 
to that little mother of mine that I 'm going out 
with you for the night. Lively, Bob, for we 've 
got to be on the grounds within three hours, sure, 
that 's sunset." 

"Together, Bob, up goes this jib! Now, then, 
a-hoy ! Up she goes. Sway away ! Sway ! There, 
that 's done — and all right too — good! Now, 
up comes the anchor ! Bob, old man, we '11 have 
both hands full now ! No, sirree, I 'm blessed if 
it is n't the light bower ! Hurrah for my dad ! 
Come on, Bob. Up she comes — and then away 
we go !" 

The mackerel season, that spring was a dire 
failure, and, while there was little prospect for a 
very large catch, unless "down Nova Scotia way" 
and too far for the boys, yet a moderate suc- 
cess of seining so near to Boston would be profit- 
able. A short run to the city and the fish would 
bring a high price as fresh fish. 

"Just think of it, Bob," said Billie, "if they av- 
erage only twenty-five cents a piece we will only 
have to catch twelve hundred to make three hun- 
dred dollars !" 

By the time they arrived at the place they 
hoped would prove good fishing-grounds it was 
quite dusk. They threw a buoy overboard, and, 
bringing the dory close up, tumbled into it, and 
pulled away into the gathering darkness. 

No easy task that was before them. 

Picking up the buoy they rowed for some dis- 
tance and then after placing a lighted lantern at 
the top of a short pole which passes through it, 
they brought forward and securely fastened to 
the buoy the first end of the first of a long con- 
nected line of nets, each eighty yards in length, 
and tied end to end. The top, or cork rope of 
these nets floats, while the bottom or foot rope, 
between which are eighty meshes, sinks to a 
depth of eighty-four inches. 

The sloop's bulky form offered a surface upon 
which wind and current pushed and pulled and 
tug, tug, tug, the Nettie Ann steadily drifted 
backward not alone keeping the line of netting 
straight and untangled, but forcing Billie to 
work as only one can backed by a stout heart 
and willing spirit. 

Night came on— and utter darkness. But they 



lost no time in pulling up the nets that were set 
first and taking out the mackerel caught by their 
gills in the meshes. After emptying one net they 
would drop it back in the water and proceed to 
the next one ; and so on to the end of the row of 
nets and then back to the beginning, the buoy of 
the first net being marked by a lantern. The luck 
was poor — only about a hundred having been 
landed by this laborious process. They had to 
work quickly for the dog-sharks were thick, and 
made short work of the imprisoned mackerel. 

Billie and Bob had taken turns. First Billie 
would row out the dory and draw the nets, then 
they would change places. About one o'clock, as 
they had reached the last net Billie felt a decided 
resistance to his first cautious pull ; then he pulled 
harder and the net did not yield. 

"I wonder what the mischief I 've got this time, 
Bob," he called to his companion back in the 
sloop. "I can't budge the net !" He knew, how- 
ever, he was too far off to be heard. 

He leaned over as far as he dared and drew 
cautiously on the foot-rope. Instantly the great 
stretch of moonlit water* about him yielded to a 
disk of luminosity that was churned out from the 
center of the net which shook and thrashed vio- 
lently about while the little dory was like a cork 
upon a raging sea. At the same moment he saw 
two widely opened jaws which disclosed rows of 
wicked-looking teeth. A half beast, half fish-like 
monster head with great glassy eyes became sil- 
houetted against the background of phosphores- 
cent water. 

Billie Mitchell was horrified ! A wild terror 
seized him and he was about to let go the rope 
when there flashed upon him the words uttered 
by his lawyer friend but a few hours before : "No 
matter how dark things look, don't lose your grip. 
Hang on to the situation and something will 
surely happen." The words rang in his ears. 
"Hang on ! Hang on!" 

"I will hang on," the boy exclaimed deter- 
minedly. "I 'm up against something awful, 
that 's certain, but / '11 hang on!" 

Seemingly the creature had previously ex- 
hausted its strength in its maddened efforts to 
break away from the weak but yielding meshes 
that hampered its movements, for the violent 
lashing soon ceased, fortunately for Billie, as his 
well-laden dory was far from being on an even 
keel, and might have overturned and left him at 
the mercy of the strange, unknown monster. 

"This net cost father eighty dollars. I 've got 
to save as much of it as I can," Billie said firmly, 
and securing the portion of the slack in his pos- 
session by placing it against the gunwale and 
bearing his knees heavily upon it, he again leaned 

over, and drew in, slowly, carefully, a long, hard, 
even pull, and again came the frenzied struggle 
of the entangled monster. 

"If I lose — you win," Billie muttered deter- 
minedly. "The whole net will be ruined, too, and 
the catch lost. I '11 try again. Perhaps you are 
strangling yourself, though, you old critter; yes, 
I guess that 's exactly what 's happening. Now 
I can see that the cork rope is wound about those 
big forward fins, and the more you fight, the 
more tangled up you get. Yes, I '11 hang on \" 

Again he secured another promising portion of 
the eighty yards of netting and again were the 
waters churned, and so the fight went on, and 
again and again was it on, and the long hours of 
the night rolled away. In the far eastern sky was 
a streak of gray ; day was dawning ! 

"Ahoy there, Billie ! Ahoy !" shouted a voice 
from — somewhere. 

Billie recognized the voice of the lawyer, and 
looked up from the net. 

A launch was bearing down upon him, and the 
next moment was amidship starboard. 

"This is Professor Higgins, Billie," called Mr. 
Hardy cheerfully, "an old college friend of mine. 
He 's down on the Cape with some of his class, 
as no doubt you heard yesterday. We 've been 
having a night of it, fishing off here in the good 
old way, hand lining, they call it. I took twenty- 
six to his twenty, all good small mackerel too, 
but what 's wrong here, anyhow? We boarded 
the Nettie Ann just now, and had a chat with the 
youngster. He 's half wild at your non-appear- 
ance. What 's the trouble?" 

"Go around on the port side," Billie said 
quietly. "Keep at least ten feet astern or some- 
thing might happen." Then to make something 
happen he pulled in hard on the rope and there 
followed a mighty upheaval of the waters. 

The professor stood up aghast until the strug- 
gles ceased, then he gazed into the sea and the 
next moment was prancing about like a mad man. 

"Oh ! Oh ! Hardy, Hardy ! Look, will you. 
Look ! The pirate of the ocean ! Nothing be- 
neath the waters can withstand it ! Fish of 
every description flee before it as do the animals 
of the jungle before the jaguar! It 's a king 
killer-whale ! Oh, what a rare specimen it is ! 
Twenty feet in length at least ! Boy, how much 
will you take for it?" he called eagerly. 

"Three hundred dollars," Billie hazarded the 
amount of his parent's indebtedness, being natur- 
ally the first figure to come into his mind. 

"Then it is mine !" the professor fairly shouted. 
"Mine, mine! I shall myself mount it, and what 
an addition it will be to my labora — " 

"Hold on, professor, it is n't yours yet," the 






lawyer broke in quietly. "You 've got to make 
fast to it first. Run alongside again, will you, so 
I can get into that dory with my young friend; 
then you go back to the Nettie Ann and get what- 
ever tackle you think you will need." 

The excited professor was already again amid- 
ship and as his companion stepped into the dory, 
he speeded away the launch at a terrific pace. 

Going forward, Mr. Hardy leaned over the 
boy's shoulder and said kindly, "What- a night 
you 've had of it, Billie, but your work is almost 
over, this king of the sea is all but exhausted 
now, I take it ! This all proves you possess one 
excellent trait in your make-up. Do you know 
what I mean ?" 

"No, sir, what?" Billie mumbled from between 
set teeth, for his heart was a bit bitter toward this 
man, for was n't he going to take away the sloop 
from his father? How could he but be bitter? 

Unheeding his tone the lawyer answered gently : 
"Perseverance ! You are not the boy to lose 
your grip. Beyond question you have got a good 
fare, Billie. Yes, I think it will prove a fine haul, 
and when the professor secures this monster, we 

will both help you draw in the nets. If I mistake 
not, a good, fresh easterly will come up with the 
sun, and with that behind her all the way, the Net- 
tie Ann will get to Boston in less than no time." 

"Did you see my father?" the boy ventured to 
ask, his lips quivering, despite his efforts to be 

"No, I did not," Mr. Hardy answered quietly, 
and, taking an envelop from an overcoat pocket, 
he continued: "See, Billie, bear witness that I 
tear up the notice and cast away the pieces ! I 
have changed my mind about the disposal of the 
sloop, and before noon to-day I shall deed it over 
to you in your own name." 

"Mine? My own?" Billie cried in joyous as- 

"Yes, your own," Mr. Hardy said cordially. 
"I admire pluck, my boy. You have had here 
something to test your nerve and perseverance, 
and you have won ! All the world loves a hero. 
Yes, Billie, the N. A. is your own property. 
You 've earned it, well earned it. You 've caught 
a big catch this time, and here comes the profes- 
sor. Good luck to you, Billie!" 






So far as I know — 
and I have traveled 
the world over — 
there is but one 
place in civilization 
where a whole vil- 
lage is built high up 
in big forest trees. 
Of course, in sav- 
age lands, espe- 
cially in cannibal 
New Guinea, tree- 
houses are com- 
mon enough, and 
so are dwellings 
propped on stilts 
out in the shallow 
seas. But then the 
occupants are al- 
ways terrified lest 
fierce raiders come 

to burn and kill and kidnap ; and while in their 
tree-top huts or sea-propped homes they feel 
themselves secure and in a position to espy the 
stranger from afar, and accost him from a safe 

Vastly different, however, is the charming vil- 
lage of Robinson near Paris. You may call it 
the Coney Island of the French metropolis; but 
there is no noise, no vulgarity, nothing but a 
quiet appreciation of lovely scenery, and a whole- 
some resolve to spend a few hours in novel sur- 
roundings, away from the fret and turmoil of a 
vast city. Robinson was "invented" by Jacques 
Guesquin, a humble rentier, a man who had made 
a little fortune in Paris, and then retired into 
the suburb to "plant his cabbages," as the French 
say, alluding to their ideal of the country life. 

But that was sixty years ago. Monsieur Gues- 
quin cast about for a likely site for his retirement, 
and hit at last upon the vicinity of Sceaux and 
Fontenay-aux-Roses, only seven miles from the 




city. A lovely spot. The quiet lane was hedged 
with wild rose, and ran along the shoulder of 
the hill, flanked by immemorial elms and im- 
mense chestnuts, survivals of the great forest 
that once encircled all Paris. 

Here old Guesquin built a cottage, but soon 





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r~: -^ .- 



found he must occupy his mind with other things 
besides planting cabbages. For his had been an 
active life. He therefore decided to open a little 
store, and thus keep his slender capital from di- 
minishing too quickly. He wondered why the 
weary brain-workers of the city close by had 
never found out this retreat. He presently 
bought another plot of land, higher up the lane, 
and there built a second cottage — why, he hardly 
knew himself; he was even wiser than he knew. 

"Some one may come," he thought vaguely. 
Then he had a fine idea. He began to nail mas- 
sive beams to the mighty limbs of an elm on his 
tiny estate, and on this novel platform he built a 
summer-house, reached by a staircase within the 
hollowed trunk. This afforded the old fellow a 
delightful panorama of the 
lovely valley of the Seine, as 
he sat and smoked his pipe 
on a summer's eve, looking 
down upon the city where 
he, too, had so recently 
borne the heat and burden 
of the day. 

One morning some young 
students from the great Sor- 
bonne University found Gues- 
quin on his perch, and with 
merry laughter insisted on 
joining him, even at the risk 
of perilous overcrowding, 
such as might well have re- 
sulted in a tumble into the 
wild-rose brambles, thirty 
feet below. These lively 
college boys were in truth 
the making of this novel 

" What shall we call it? " 
they wondered. And imme- 
diately the utter loneliness, 
and the lofty lookout in the 
tree suggested Defoe's im- 
mortal hero. "Let 's dub 
it ' Robinson ' ! " cried one, 
in a flash of inspiration. 
With that the lads ran away 
to spread the fame of the 
charming spot. 

Soon there was not a tree 
within a mile or so of Gues- 
quin's that had not a res- 
taurant or pleasure pavilion 
clasped within its leafy 
bosom. All Paris was de- 
lighted with the notion, and 
the country roads were fairly 
lined with "explorers," all seeking the now fa- 
miliar effigy of Robinson Crusoe at the entrance 
to the novel village. 

Shooting galleries, merry-go-rounds, donkeys 
and ponies were added to Robinson's attractions. 
The place is now the great resort of middle-class 
families, especially on a Sunday afternoon. Dur- 
ing the week there is a constant succession of 
wedding parties, especially of the working-classes. 
These good folk have a merry time. They go 



for pony rides, take walks in the woods, besiege 
the swings, have their portraits taken under the 
forest trees, and finally tramp up the creaking 
stairways that lead to the restaurants in the air. 
Of these there are entire streets, and the service 
is arranged by ropes and pulleys from the 
kitchens below. 

You can imagine nothing more restful than a 
quiet luncheon thirty or forty feet up among the 
foliage, whose gaps frame such charming pic- 
tures of the smiling valley of the Seine, with the 
far-distant towers of venerable Notre Dame, and 
the slender outlines of the Eiffel Tower. The 
rough plank dining-tables in the tree-tops are 
covered with dainty napery and shining silver; 
and vast is the delight of the boys and girls of 
the party every time the head waiter's basket is 
raised by rope and pulley, and lifted eagerly over 
the parapet of the tree-house. A lucky package 
indeed, full of savory dishes, delicious pastry and 
iced drinks; its advent is greeted with shouts of 
laughter and much clapping of hands. 

Adventurous youngsters beg to be lowered 
with the empty basket ; so that a common sight 
as one strolls beneath the mighty trees is some 
little fellow apparently descending from the sky 
in a basket swinging giddily at the end of a cable, 
and anxiously watched by the benevolent host 
below, who has all kinds of surprises in store for 
his young guests, as befits a true inmate of Rob- 
inson Crusoe's own village. 



After luncheon the merrymakers descend to 
earth once more for a walk in the woods or a 
donkey ride, retiring later on to the tree-tops. 
Here dinner is served at about seven, and the giant 
boughs lit up with fairy lamps, just as the purple 
dusk descends upon the far-stretching valley. 
The children amuse themselves with fireworks, 
and the good-natured waiters haul the bolder 
spirits among the little ones up and down with 
the pulley gear. 

Before nine, however, the aerial village is de- 
serted, or rather given over to the birds, who 
look forward to a rich harvest of crumbs. And 
then father and mother, boys and girls, take their 
seats, in the big char-a-banc, and drive slowly off 
down the sweet country lanes toward the mighty 
city of Paris now a blaze of twinkling lights. 


(Columbus at Valladolid, May 20, 150b) 


I am that Christopher that knew no rest, 

Urged by one thought, one faith, one hope to 

Christ-bearer? Aye! I bore Him to the West, 
Beyond the Unknown Sea. 

There was a day the cannons of the fort 
Echoed the shouting and the loud acclaim, 

When the long walls of Palos and the Port 
Resounded with my name. 

That was the day the vision of my youth 
I saw acknowledged among actual things. 

What says the Scripture ? "He who speaks the 
Shall gain the love of kings." 

I spoke the truth ; I proved it ; that great Queen 
I justified. She praised me. What remains? 

The memory of darkness that hath been, 
And bitterness, and chains. 

Those lonely days, — ye came not to me then. 

Who so deserted, so distressed as I ? 
Ye sought me not, yet now, good gentlemen, 

Ye come to see me die. 

I found a world ! As though one grasped a star, 
Presumptuous, to gather only pain ! 

Ah, well ! Salute, before he sails afar, 
The Admiral of Spain. 

My fair new land shall yield you spice and silk, 
Pearl of the sea, and treasure of the mine ; 

A goodly land, of honey and of milk, 
Aye, and of oil and wine. 

Men of my race and yours shall call it home, 
Remembering me, and this shall be my fame, 

That little children there in years to come 
Shall reverence my name. 

The waves are high before my vessel's prow; 

Once more I go to seek a land unknown, 
The Lord of earth and ocean grants me now 

This one last voyage alone. 

My bed is drifting like a bark at sea ; 

Look you, where yonder two white 
The land birds of the Lord, to prove to me 

The shore is nigh at hand. 


This world 's an island. Nought we have to leave, 
Who thought ourselves so rich while we did 
live. — 

"Into thy hands, O Lord!" Thou wilt receive 
The spirit Thou didst give ! 

1 the bronze doors of the Rotunda of the Capitol at Washington — designed by Randolph Rogers) 


Katrina came to our school, — 

Her seat is next to mine, — 
She used to live in Germany, 

Beside the river Rhine. 

Her cheeks are pink as cherry blooms, 

Her lips ten times as red ; 
But none of us could understand 

A word Katrina said. 

Her eyes are like my best big doll's, 

Her hair is just the same; 
I 'm sure I never could pronounce 

Her father's funny name. 

She 's such a different kind of girl 

And from so far away 
You 'd think she would feel sad and strange 

And lonely all the day. 



be fixes our hair ribbons straight 
be pins us when we tear. 

But no ! Katrina always smiles ; 

She 's made us all her friends, — ; 
When anybody's pencil breaks 

Her own she always lends. 

She fixes our hair ribbons straight, 

She pins us when we tear. 
I never saw a little girl 

So useful everywhere. 

She always comes to school on time ; 

Her desk is just as neat ! 
I 'm sure I 'm twice as careful 

Since Katrina shares my seat. 

It makes me have some new, new thoughts. 
Some kindlier thoughts ! — to know 

That, though I cannot speak to her, 
I love Katrina so. 



Chapter IX 


The group about the camp stared in open- 
mouthed amazement, while Snip barked hysteri- 
cally and the stranger having completed his bow, 
returned their regard with merry, twinkling 

He was rather small in stature and slight of 
build, with a round, much freckled face, an ex- 
tremely stubbed nose, a wide mouth, a pair of in- 
tensely blue eyes and, crowning all, a thin crop 
of the most violently red hair that you can con- 
ceive of, red hair of that peculiar shade which 
usually wins for the possessor the nickname of 
"Carrots." In age he appeared to be somewhere 
■ — most anywhere, in fact — between thirty and 
thirty-five years. 

But it was neither face nor figure which ex- 
cited the wonder and amusement of the campers, 
but the attire. To begin at the ground and work 
upward, there was, first of all, a pair of low tan 
shoes ; then came a pair of striped stockings ; 
then, strange to relate, a pair of voluminous white 
trousers which hung about the wearer like the 
folds of a deflated balloon and reached down one 
leg almost to the ankle and on the other scarcely 
below the knee. They were decorated in the 
queerest way, too, for on the side of one leg was 
a disk of red, and on the other a black star. Above 
the trousers was what seemed to be a brief space 
of red flannel, and surmounting this was a light 
blue Zouave jacket, much faded and stained, 
trimmed with a deal of tarnished silver braid and 
many silver buttons. Above this was a high col- 
lar and a black dress tie, and as a finishing touch 
to the incongruous apparel he held in his hand a 
high silk hat upon which the level rays of the 
sun scintillated dazzlingly. Roy was the first one 
to find his voice. 

"H-how do you do?" he stammered. But Dick's 
amazement got the better of his manners, and — 

"Who the dickens are you ?" he blurted. 

The stranger's broad, smiling mouth drew it- 
self into lines of decorum and, with the silk hat 
held at his breast, he advanced toward them with 
measured and dignified tread. At three yards' 
distance he stopped, drew himself up with his 
right knee bent until only the toe touched the 
ground, thrust his left hand into a pocket of his 
huge trousers and pulled them out for half a 
yard on that side, stretched the silk hat straight 

before him, crown down, at arm's length, threw 
back his head, and — 

"Lady and gentlemen!" he announced grandil- 
oquently. "I have the honor to introduce to your 
attention the world-famed Signor Billinuni, late 
of the Royal Hippodrome, Vienna !" 

Harry gasped, Snip redoubled his barking and 
the others stared in amazed and admiring awe. 
There was a moment of silence, save for the 
frantic voice of the indomitable Snip. Then — 

"It 's Seth Billings !" cried Chub. 

"It 's 'W. N.' !" murmured Roy. 

"It 's the poet!" exclaimed Harry. 

"More familiarly known," laughed the man, 
abandoning his pose and extravagant manner, "as 
Billy Noon, at your service." 

"Oh!" cried Harry, scrambling somewhat con- 
fusedly to her feet. "You — you 've come to sup- 
per, have n't you? Won't you — won't you be 

"After you, my dear young lady," answered 
Mr. Noon gallantly. 

"We thought you were n't coming," said Chub. 
"We were just sending Dick over on a relief ex- 
pedition with some clothes. What happened ? 
Did you get wet?" 

The guest had laid aside his tall silk hat and 
seated himself on the bench at Harry's side. At 
Chub's question his smiling face instantly took 
on an expression of thoughtful gravity. 

"Have you ever," he asked Chub, "been im- 
mersed in the Hudson River with your clothes 

Chub assured him that he never had, feeling 
rather apologetic about it. Mr. Noon sighed. 

"Then you don't know what it is to be thor- 
oughly wet. I was so wet that after I had re- 
moved my apparel I was obliged to go in bath- 
ing to get dry." 

Harry gasped and looked puzzledly at Mr. 
Noon's sober countenance until Chub and Dick 
and Roy burst out laughing. Then Mr. Noon 
laughed also, and Snip, who had been nosing 
nearer and nearer, took courage to sniff at the 
new-comer and, recognizing an acquaintance, to 
strive frantically to lick his face. 

"Hello, 'K 9,' " said the guest of honor, patting 
Snip, "did you deliver that note I gave you ?" 

"Yes, he did," answered Harry. "And we 
were so surprised, because Snip does n't like 
strangers usually." 

"I never have any trouble making friends with 






dogs," said Mr. Noon. "And that 's a lucky 
thing for me, because in my present pursuit I 
meet all kinds of dogs, and if I did n't get on 
with them pretty well I would n't do much busi- 

"Oh, are you a dog doc — I 
mean a veterinary surgeon?" 
asked Harry interestedly. But 
the other shook his head. 

"I have been a good many 
things," he said, "but I have n't 
tried that yet. It 's a good idea, 
though," he added thoughtfully, 
"a very good idea. I '11 keep 
it in mind." 

Dick, assisted by Roy, had 
been transferring the delayed 
supper back on to the "table," 
and now all was in readiness for 
a new start. Mr. Noon sniffed 
the aroma of ham and potatoes 
and tea with frank appreciation. 
Then he sighed comfortably. 

" Well, I 'm glad I decided 
to waive the conventions and 
accept your kind invitation," he 
remarked as he accepted his 
helping. " You see, as soon as 
I sent that note I regretted it. 
I said to myself : ' Billy, you 've 
made a mistake. You 've 
missed a good meal because of 
over-sensitiveness. These kind 
friends don't care what sort of 
clothes you wear. Forget your 
pride.' So I overhauled my 
wardrobe and found — these." 
He looked down at the blue 
jacket and the flowing white 
pantaloons and sighed. "They 
are all I have left to remind me 
of my former glory. Faded but 

j . , °, ,, , ■ U A " " ' IF Y0U 

dear to my heart, he sighed, as 
the scenes of my childhood." 

Whereupon Harry looked very sympathetic. 

"Well, it 's a mighty nobby coat," said Chub 
cheerfully, between mouthfuls. "Were you in 
the army?" 

Mr. Noon shook his head and chuckled. 

"No," he answered. "These garments were 
worn by me when I traveled with Northcott's 
Great United Shows. I was Signor Billinuni, 
the celebrated European Clown. That explains 
the pantaloons. The coat I wore in the parades. 
I played the trombone in the band." He sighed 
again. "Those were indeed glorious days!" 

"A circus clown !" cried Chub. "Say, that 's 

bully. I 've always wanted to meet a real 
clown!" And the others murmured assent; all 
save Harry, whose face fell. 

"I thought you were a poet," she faltered. 


Mr. Noon turned to her and smiled apologet- 

"I have been a great many things," he said, 
"but I can't truthfully claim the poet's mantle. 
I own to a certain ability in the felicitous rhym- 
ing of words, but nothing more, nothing more." 
He waved his fork on which a slice of fried po- 
tato was impaled and smiled modestly about the 

"But I think your verses are perfectly lovely!" 
cried Harry. 

"You are too kind," he murmured with a bow. 
"Which reminds me that I owe an apology, never 




rightly expressed, for the liberty I took with 
your commissariat." They all looked rather 
blank ; all except Dick. "I had arrived on this 
island but an hour before and the problem of 
supper was occupying a great deal of thought. 
To be frank, I had in my pantry a little coffee, a 
fried egg left over from dinner and — and a can 
of mushrooms, I may better say the can of mush- 

"Mushrooms !" repeated Roy curiously. 

"Yes. You see, I happen to be inordinately 
fond of mushrooms. In an extravagant moment 
I purchased a can of them ; they cost me sixty 
cents. Naturally, they can only be opened on 
some occasion of special importance, an occasion 
which has not yet transpired. So, to all prac- 
tical purposes, the can of mushrooms was non- 
existent. Well, considering the problem confront- 
ing me, I took a walk about my new domain 
and stumbled on your camp. It was empty. 
'Providence,' thought I, 'has befriended me. I 
will investigate.' I assure you, young gentlemen 
— and young lady — that I took no liberties beyond 
what you know of. Said I, T will take of their 
plenty, paying as I can, now in a verse and later, 
maybe, in something more practical.' So I took 
half a loaf of bread and perhaps half a pound of 
butter, the whole valued at about eighteen cents, 
let us say. In return I left two verses worth, at 
market rates, about two dollars. My conscience 
was at rest and my stomach at peace." 

"Why," exclaimed Harry, "then we owe you a 
dollar and seventy-two cents !" 

"Eighty-two," corrected Roy. But the Li- 
censed Poet raised his left hand, which at that 
moment happened not to be busy, in a gesture 
of disavowal. 

"The market price, dear young lady," he said, 
"is not my price. My price for the verses was 
about eighteen cents." 

"Oh !" murmured Harry, a little mystified. 

"Thanks for the fish," said Dick. "They were fine." 

"You are very welcome. I was so fortunate as 
to catch eight that morning." 

"Here on the island?" asked Chub interestedly. 

"No, some distance up the river, near where a 
small stream enters." 

"I know the place," said Chub eagerly. "We 
must try it some time, fellows." 

"Then you have a boat?" said Roy. 

"Yes," answered the Poet. "The Minerva. 
She is neither large nor beautiful, but she does 
very well. I bought her for four dollars and a 
half, throwing in a set of dentist's instruments. 
The instruments originally cost nearly twenty 
dollars, but they were no longer in their first 

Vol. XXXV. -75. 

"Are you a dentist, too?" asked Harry, shrink- 
ing a little away from him. 

"I was a dentist for a brief space," was the 
reply. "But I never had any heart for the pro- 
fession. I am by nature, though I say it myself, 
very gentle. If I had my way there 'd be no pain 
in the world. Naturally, extracting teeth was 
not an agreeable task ; I believe that in most 
cases I suffered more agony than the patient. 
Would it be a breach of manners to ask for an- 
other small piece of the ham?" 

"No, indeed," declared Dick, replenishing the 
guest's plate. Although he had been talking al- 
most constantly since sitting down, the Poet had 
managed to do full justice to the viands. Harry 
was at first pained to observe that his table man- 
ners did not match his speech ; he relied rather 
too much on his knife, for one thing, while there 
was also a marked tendency to fill the mouth 
somewhat too full and to talk while it was in that 
condition. But presently Harry recollected that 
the poets of whom she had read had all been no- 
tably eccentric and, in some cases, even more dis- 
regardful of the social niceties than Mr. Noon. 

"Are you going to be here long?" asked Roy 
when the visitor's wants had been attended to. 

"I hardly know," was the reply. "It is a con- 
venient spot and very attractive and peaceful. I 
love peace and Nature. I have led rather a busy 
life heretofore, and now to sleep under the trees 
when I want to, to lie on my back in the sun- 
light, to watch the water ripple past the boat — 
these are delights for which my soul has long 

Harry breathed a sigh of ecstasy and forgot 
then and there that the Poet had ever been a 

"Then you 're just camping out?" asked Dick 

Mr. Noon waved a slice of bread airily and 
smiled gently across the twilight water. 

"I am combining business with pleasure, sir. 
After the day's work is over I am the owner of 
the yacht Minerva, taking a pleasure cruise down 
the Hudson River. During the day I am an agent 
for the enlightenment of mankind and more es- 
pecially for Billings's 'Wonders of the Deep.' " 

"You 're a book agent !" exclaimed Dick. 

Mr. Noon bowed. 

"Right the first time ! Although I prefer the 
word canvasser. I am selling sets of Billings's 
great work, I may say his masterpiece — " 

"Seth Billings !" cried Chub. 

"On the contrary, I believe his given name is 
Horace," replied Mr. Noon. Whereupon they 
explained about the words found on the back of 
the slip of paper and their interpretation of 




them. Mr. Noon found this interesting and 
amusing, but not enough so to divert his atten- 
tion from the supper. Harry pressed preserves 
and cake on him and he politely helped himself. 

"It must be hard work," said Roy. "Selling 
books, I mean." 

"All work is hard if you make it so," was the 
reply. "In the same way the hardest work may 
be easy if you enjoy it. I enjoy selling books. 
To be a successful book agent one must be a 
general. Every engagement requires special 
study. The prospective customer is the enemy 
to be surrounded and captured. Your ammuni- 
tion is address, tact, patience, the ability to read 
character and the power of presenting your 
wares attractively." Mr. Noon took a third help- 
ing of preserve and cake and warmed to his sub- 
ject. "To sell a set of books to some one who 
wants them is nothing; it brings no warmth to 
the heart. To sell a set of books to some one who 
needs them but does n't want to buy them is 
worth while but still lacks the highest artistic 
touch. But to sell those books to a person who 
does n't need them, does n't want them, and will 
never use them — that is an accomplishment!" 

"I should think so!" muttered Roy admiringly. 

"Yes," resumed Mr. Noon, smiling reminis- 
/ cently, "yes. One of the most artistic sales I 
ever made was a set of Somebody's 'Animal 
Kingdom' ; six volumes, half morocco, pro- 
fusely illustrated by the world's foremost artists, 
to a gentleman who at first protested that he 
did n't want them. I pictured those books to him 
so graphically, so attractively, that he found he 
could n't be happy without them." 

"But that does n't seem to me to be quite — 
quite fair," said Roy. "It was a good deal like — 
like cheating." 

"Roy!" murmured Harry distressedly. But 
Mr. Noon only smiled gently as he gazed over 
the empty plates. 

"No, indeed," he replied, "the books were good ; 
they deserved all that I said of them ; the gentle- 
man was quite able to afford the books ; and the 
possession of them made him happier than he had 
been before. We should always keep in mind the 
Final Good." 

Roy looked perplexed but not convinced. 

"Only this afternoon," continued Mr. Noon, 
leaning comfortably back on one elbow, "I made 
a creditable sale and at the same time met a most 
agreeable gentleman. This afternoon was one of 
the bright spots in the life of a canvasser. I 
waited on a Doctor Emery who keeps the school 
over here, and — " 

"Why, that 's my father!" cried Harry. 

"Yes, so I learned," replied Mr. Noon easily. 

"In fact, I introduced you, my dear young lady, 
as an entering wedge, so to speak. I mentioned 
that we were, in a manner, occasional guests at 
the same summer resort — " 

"But you 'd never seen me !" 

"Pardon me, but I had seen you several times. 
One morning I passed you on the river in my 
boat. Once or twice I have seen you here at this 
camp when I have been out looking for wood or 
communing with Nature." 

"Oh," said Harry. "And did you sell papa a 
set of — of — " 

"Billings, yes. He preferred the buckram 
binding. We had a very pleasant chat, besides. 
A most interesting gentleman, I found him." 

The Licensed Poet arose. It was almost dark. 

"And now," he said, "having spent a busy day 
after an early arising I find that mind and body 
yearn for repose. You will pardon me if I take 
my departure early? I have enjoyed your hos- 
pitality greatly, appreciating both the kindness 
which prompted its offer and the excellent repast 
provided. I only regret that I am unable to re- 
turn it. Some day I shall hope to do so, but at 
present I am so situated that — " 

"That 's all right," interrupted Chub. "We 
were mighty glad to have you, and we 've en- 
joyed meeting you. If you 're round here for 
awhile I hope you '11 come again." 

"Thank you," responded the Poet earnestly. 
"And perhaps, although I cannot entertain you 
at my board, you will call some time and view 
my humble abode." 

"Sure," said Dick. "We '11 come around some 
time, maybe to-morrow." 

"I hope you will. Good night, and again 
thanks. Good night, my dear young lady." The 
Licensed Poet bowed low to Harry, his ridicu- 
lous white pantaloons lighting the twilight. 

"Good night," said Harry. 

"Good night," echoed the others. The Li- 
censed Poet turned toward the woods, waved his 
hat, set it jauntily over one ear and moved away,, 
among the trees. 

"Please," cried Harry, "Mr. Noon !" 

"At your service, my dear young lady," came 
the reply. 

"Won't you — would you mind— could n't you 
compose a — a verse before you go ?" she asked 
as she was starting to follow Roy and Dick who 
were to take her home in the canoe. There was a 
moment's silence. Then the Poet's voice came 
back to them — 

" Thanks, all, for this pleasant occasion, 
And pardon my leaving so soon. 
That you '11 spend a delightful vacation 
Is the wish of your friend Billy Noon."' 




Chapter X 


ARRY did not accom- 
pany the boys, much 
as she wished to do 
so, when next morn- 
ing they went down 
to Silver Cove to 
bring back the launch. 
The canoe held only 
three safely and they 
did n't want to take 
the rowboat. They 
promised to stop at 
the landing on the 
way back and pick 
her up. 

The launch was 
awaiting them in the 
freight-shed and they 
spent a busy half 
hour getting it out of 
its crate and into the 
water. For the lat- 
ter task they enlisted 
the services of two 
employes of the wharf. 
When she was finally 
afloat she proved to 
be a very pretty little 
boat. She was six- 
teen feet long and four feet five inches broad, 
painted green below and black above the water- 
line. The engine, of two horse-power, was placed 
well toward the stern. There was a neat brass 
steering-wheel, brass flag-sockets, brass cleats 
and a round disk of brass let into the forward 
deck which puzzled them all until investigation 
proved it to be the inlet to the gasolene tank. 

"That 's so," muttered Dick, "we 've got to 
have gasolene, have n't we?" 

"Well," Chub answered, "you might get along 
with tomato catsup or witch hazel, but gasolene 
launches seem to take to gasolene better than any- 
thing else." 

"You run away," said Dick. "Only thing is, I 
don't know how much the stuff costs or where 
you buy it. I 've only got about three dollars 
with me." 

But inquiry solved the matter for them. Gaso- 
lene could be bought at the next wharf above and 
the cost of it was only about twenty cents a gallon. 
Roy stuck his head through the little door under 
the forward decking and reported that the tank, 
according to his belief, would hold only some ten 
gallons. Dick sighed with relief. One of the 

freight handlers took a great interest in them and 
their boat and proved invaluable, producing a 
rope with which to tie the boat up to the wharf, 
giving them the address of a man who could 
make flags and poles to occupy the fascinating 
sockets and lending practical assistance when, 
presently, they started to get the engine to run- 

I desire to say right now that some one ought 
to apologize for the behavior of Thomas H. 
Eaton during that trying period, and as Thomas 
H. Eaton has failed to apologize himself I '11 do 
it for him. Chub sat well out of the way of the 
"near-leather" cushion in the bow and just simply 
bubbled over with advice and observations. The 
engine consisted of a mysterious vermilion-enam- 
eled cylinder about fourteen inches high flanked 
on one side by a strange contrivance of brass, 
called, according to the card of directions which 
hung from it, a carbureter and which looked like 
a small soup-bowl adorned with valves and 
springs. In front of the cylinder was a heavy 
iron wheel which appeared to operate a piston 
and a shaft. From the back of the engine a brass 
rod slanted away until it disappeared under the 
flooring. On top of the cylinder there was a con- 
trivance of steel and porcelain which screwed 
into a hole, and from this an insulated wire ran 
to a set of dry-cells tucked under one of the seats. 
Well, it was all very confusing and mystifying 
and unfortunately their friend the freight handler 
knew nothing about gas-engines. The card of in- 
structions contained a great deal of printed mat- 
ter and several diagrams, but after Dick and Rov" 
had read it carefully over the only things they 
were certain about were that it was necessary to 
fill the tank with gasolene, lubricate all bearings 
with cylinder-oil or grease and turn the fly-wheel 
to the right. So Dick went off in search of gaso- 
lene and presently returned struggling with a five- 
gallon can of it. This they poured into the tank. 
There was a small can of cylinder-oil and one of 
graphite in the tool drawer, and, while Roy read 
the directions, Dick poured oil or smeared grease. 
When that operation was completed Dick looked 
as though he had been an engineer all his life. 
Roy said he ought to have some cotton waste to 
wipe his hands on and the freight handler again 
proved a friend in need, producing a bunch of the 
desired article as if by magic. 

Then Roy read the directions for starting the 
engine again, while Dick turned valves and fussed 
with things generally and Chub approved or dis- 
approved as he thought proper. 

" 'Close switch,' " read Roy. "Have you done 

"Yes, long ago. What next ?" 




" 'Open relief cock, ].' " 

"Yes, open the relief cock, jay," echoed Chub. 

"All right. Now what ?" 

" 'Flood carbureter by depressing in.' ' 

"What 's 'm'?" growled Dick. Roy consulted 
the diagram. 

"Hanged if I know," he muttered finally. 
"There does n't seem to be any 'm' here." 

"Go on to the next letter," suggested Chub. 

"Oh, here it is. It 's that little thing on top of 
it there. No, the little jigger; that 's it." 

"The stuff 's coming out on top," said Dick 

"Better stop then ; I suppose it 's flooded. Now 
let 's see. 'Flood' — you 've done that. 'Turn 
wheel over to right until engine starts. Then 
close relief cock, open oil-cup and regulate carbu- 
reter as directed.' " 

"Well, let 's try it," said Dick. "Where 's that 
handle thing?" 

"Behind you on the floor." 

"If you start without unhitching," said Chub, 
"you '11 tow the wharf off; yank it right out by 
the roots and tow it away ; and maybe we '11 all 
be arrested for stealing a wharf." 

"You keep still, will you? Maybe, though, 
we 'd better do that, Roy." 

But the freight handler returned at that mo- 
ment and solved that difficulty by untying the 
rope and holding it. Then Dick inserted the 
handle in the rim of the wheel and turned it over. 
There was a mild click and a little puff from the 
relief cock, but the launch did n't dart off toward 
the dim distance. 

"Huh !" said Dick. "What 's the matter with 

"Try it again," said Roy. Dick tried it again. 
Then he tried it several times. Then he said 
"Huh !" once more, got a new hold and turned 
until he had a crick between his shoulders and 
was as red in the face as a lobster. Roy studied 
the directions. 

"That 's funny," he murmured. 

"What I like about these motor launches," 
observed Chub to the world at large, "is the ease 
of manipulation. You pour a little gasolene into 
a tank, open a cock, turn a handle and — zip, 
you 're off! Simple! There 's nothing sim- 

"Say, if you don't subside," said Dick, turning 
a red, scowling countenance upon him, "we '11 
put you out of here. And that goes !" 

Chub subsided for a" moment, smiling cheer- 
fully. Dick bent over the wheel again. After 
another full minute of labor, he stopped, wiped 
the perspiration from his forehead and sat down 
on the seat. 

"Let me try," said Roy. He took his turn. 
Over went the wheel with a click, there was a 
soft sigh through the relief cock and nothing more 
exciting transpired. Now and then they studied 
the directions anew and examined everything all 
over again. Once in awhile the carbureter came 
in for another flooding. After Roy the freight 
handler had his go at the wheel. He turned and 
turned, proving superior to exhaustion, and 
would doubtless be turning yet if Dick had n't 
forced him away from the wheel. 

"Must be something wrong," said Dick wrath- 
fully. Roy silently agreed. Chub looked wise. 

"Have you drowned the carbureter lately?" he 
asked. No one paid any attention to him. 

"It must be the battery," said Dick helplessly. 
"Maybe we 're not getting any spark. The direc- 
tions said there should be a spark. Now let 's 
see." He studied the situation in silence for a 
moment. Then, "I know," he said. "I '11 bet 
something 's wrong with the wiring. What time 
is it?" 

"Quarter to eleven, nearly," Roy answered. 

"Then supposing I go up to the village and find 
some one who understands electricity." 

"Well," said Roy doubtfully. "But suppose the 
trouble is n't with the battery or the wires? 
Would n't it be better to find some one who knows 
about gasolene engines ?" 

Dick agreed that it would and they consulted 
the freight handler. He thought a long while and 
finally said that there was a man named Hodgson 
who had "one of them boats." But it also trans- 
pired that Mr. Hodgson was extremely uncertain 
as to his habits and the freight handler could n't 
suggest a place where they would be likely to find 

"Well, there 's no use looking all over the town 
for him," said Dick disgustedly. "I '11 try her 
once more. Flood that thing, will you?" 

"One good turn deserves another," murmured 
Chub. Roy flooded the carbureter for the twen- 
tieth time, remarking pessimistically that pretty 
soon they 'd have to buy more gasolene, and Roy 
"turned her over" again. This time there was a 
real business-like sound from somewhere inside 
the engine and a puff of vapor came through the 
relief cock. 

"Did you hear that?" cried Dick. 

"Yes," answered Roy hopefully. "It sounded 
almost as though it was going to start. Try it 

"When is a fly-wheel not a fly-wheel ?" asked 
Chub. "Answer : when it does n't fly around. 
Good !" 

Dick bent over the wheel again and turned, but 
the engine, as though quite satisfied with its brief 



sign of life, refused to evince any further interest 
in the proceedings. Dick turned again and again, 
getting redder and redder, hotter and hotter, 
madder and madder. 

"Oh, hang the fool thing!" he exclaimed dis- 
gustedly, standing erect to ease his aching back. 
"I 'm going to ship it back and get my money." 
He looked wrathfully at Roy, who maintained a 
noncommittal silence. Then he stared aggres- 
sively at Chub. But Chub was gazing off down 
the river and humming "My Father 's the En- 
gineer." Then he challenged the freight handler. 
But that obliging man kept a discreet silence, 
looking the while properly sympathetic, even 
shaking his head once. Dick grunted and turned 
his regard to the stubborn engine. But he got 
no satisfaction there. So, giving it a contemp- 
tuous kick and chipping off half an inch of beau- 
tiful bright red enamel, he subsided on the seat 
and studied the blisters on his hands. 

"I '11 try it again," suggested Roy not over 

"What 's the use?" growled Dick. "You '11 
only break your back." 

"Let me have a whack at it," said Chub cheer- 
fully, getting up. "I have an irresistible way with 
engines, Dick." 

"You !" snorted Dick. "All you can do is to lie 
around and make a fool of yourself. You 're 
about as much help as a — a—" 

"Book of directions," said Chub cheerfully. 
"Where 's the handle ? Thank you. Inserting 
the handle in the rim of the wheel, our hero, with 
a superhuman effort, spun — " 

Puff! Puff! Puff! 

"It 's going!" yelled Roy. 

"What '11 I do with the rope ?" shouted the man 
on the wharf, holding on to it for dear life. 

"Let go!" cried Dick, jumping for the wheel. 
He reached it just in time to turn the bow away 
from a spile, and with a grazing bump the launch 
swung into the stream, pulling the canoe after it. 

"Good-by !" cried the freight handler. They 
waved to him as the boat's bow turned up-stream. 

"Puff, puff, puff!" went the engine. 

"Chug, chug, chug !" went the exhaust. 

"Does n't she go great?" cried Dick turning to 
the others. 

"Fine," answered Roy with proper enthusiasm. 

"When you understand her," remarked Chub 

"Get out," said Roy. "No wonder she started 
after the way we 'd worked with her !" 

Chub looked grieved. 

"Of all the unappreciative fellows I ever knew," 
he said sadly, "you 're the worst ! Dick does n't 

talk that way. Dick realizes that if it had n't 
been for me you 'd be at the wharf there yet. 
Dick is decently grateful and — " 

"What the dickens did you do any more than 
we did?" demanded Dick. "You turned the wheel 
and she just happened to start." 

"Happened !" murmured Chub, smiling pity- 
ingly. "Very well, think that way if you want to. 
It does n't hurt me. Ingratitude only shows — " 

"Look out !" yelled Roy. Dick worked quickly 
and narrowly avoided running down a rowboat 
containing two men. As they went by they were 
forced to listen to a number of uncomplimentary 
remarks. But Dick did n't mind. The launch 
was running, and that was all he cared about. 
To be sure, she was n't making very great speed, 
but Dick explained that by assuring Roy and 
Chub that she had n't got warmed up yet. 

"I '11 bet I could paddle faster than this," said 

"I '11 bet you could n't," answered Dick indig- 
nantly. "She 's going a good six miles an hour." 

"Six miles an hour ! You know well enough 
that if an able-bodied mudscow came along it 
would make this boat look as if it were standing 
still. But there 's no way to prove it, unless we 
use Roy for a log and tow him astern." 

"I '11 prove it all right," Dick persisted. 
"We '11 start at the big bridge and go up the river 
to Sheer's Landing; that 's just six miles. 

"Oh, that 's all right," answered Chub affably, 
"but what I 'm saying is that she is n't making 
any six miles an hour now. I don't know what 
she might do to-morrow. Why, you might grease 
her hull, or get Roy to swim under water and tow 

"When you say we 're not making six miles 
you don't know what you 're talking about," Dick 
growled. "Does he, Roy?" 

"Don't ask me," said Roy. "I don't know any- 
thing about it. I would like to suggest, however, 
that you turn the boat a bit so as to avoid run- 
ning into that point. Thank you, Dickums ; I 
feel more comfortable." 

"It 's a mighty poor launch that won't make 
six miles," muttered Dick as he swung the boat's 
head farther toward the middle of the river. 

"Dick, you 're stubborn to-day," sighed Chub. 
"I refuse to argue with you any longer. I will 
only remark in closing that this fine boat is not 
making any six miles per hour." 

"And I say she is," answered Dick warmly. 
"If she is n't I '11—" 

The chugging of the engine stopped, there was 
an expiring wheeze from somewhere, and the 
launch rocked silently and lazily on the water. 

{To be continued.) 


This is the short, sweet, sorrowful tale 

Of Jessica Jenkins Jones ; 
She planted a packet of seeds with pride 
While her dog looked on with his head on the side 

And thought, "She 's burying bones." 

When Jessica left, he dug like mad 

In search of the luscious bones, 
So Jessica's garden it does n't grow 
And Jessica's dog is cross, and so 
Is Jessica Jenkins Jones. 


BY "L. G. T." 


Chapter XIX 
"remember the maine!" 

The council of war was 
ended and the captains all 
went silently down our gang- 
way, each entering his own 
gig; and, as every captain's 
gig wears a golden arrow on 
its bow, like so many darts 
shot from the flag-ship's 
quiver, they each sought their 
own target — their own ship. 
Everywhere ammunition lay at hand, the guns 
were loaded, and, although I have hundreds of 
times answered the order "Cast loose and pro- 
vide," that night there came a sound in the clos- 
ing of the breech-blocks that I had never heard 
before. The click of the steel was gone, and a 
muffled something that shut in a full charge went 
through my being. I cannot tell what it was ; but I 
know that every man who fought a gun that day 
realizes what I mean, and it were impossible to 
make one who has never heard it understand. 

It was news to me that the order "Clear for 
action !" included the clipping of every man's hair 
close to his head ; the surgeons say hair is as 
dangerous as cloth in a wound. The climate in- 
vited the wearing of "birthday shirts," while for 
trousers (our only garment) many substituted 
bathing or boxing trunks. 

The surgeons are a jolly good lot of fellows, 
and an emergency hospital was fitted out in the 
ward-room for their accommodation. 

From the moment we loaded and trained our 
guns there was not half the excitement mani- 
fested that has accompanied every one of our 
boat-races, and yet no pen can portray the sensa- 
tions that alternately raged and slept within our 
breasts that night. 

There were not clouds enough to hide the 
moon, but we lighted no running lights, and our 
stern lights were set in deep funnelsthat shone only 
astern, and in a feeble glimmer, just sufficient to 
gauge our distance, for we ran in close order. 

The flag-ship was in the lead, with Navigator 
Calkins on the standard compass-stand, listening 
to the heaving of the lead* "No bottom at ten," 
or "By the mark seven," — and so the whispers 

ran through the night, the only sound to break 
the awful stillness as we picked our way through 
strange waters; and they were planted thick with 
deadly mines, which, even as we crept along, 
would often burst so near that some of our ships 
got the spray flung by the explosions. 

The bells were mute. To the soft swish of the 
waters the hours dropped off until midnight, when 
the smoke-stack of the despatch-boat McCulloch 
took fire and gave the enemy our bearings. It 
was all they needed. 

A shell whizzed between the flag-ship and the 
Baltimore, and burst in the water beyond. The 
Boston immediately cut loose with an 8-inch, and 
the Petrel with a 6-inch shell, but it was so dark 
we could not locate their batteries. 

We signaled to the McCulloch, "Are you all 

The "O.K." she flashed back was the prettiest 
signal I ever read; it was like a meteor, and when 
it went out the flag-ship signaled to the fleet to 
cease firing. 

It was during the starboard watch below that 
five of us crept away together and told one an- 
other things we had never told before. One man 
gave the stage name of a well-known actress as 
that of his mother, and I for the first time owned 
that my father was a bank president. Addresses 
were exchanged, and with them, promises that we 
would write if — well, if anything happened. 
Then, solemnly laying our hands upon our cut- 
lasses, we vowed never to surrender, even though 
our ship did, and that we would fight as long as 
there was a glimmer of life left within us. This 
we swore as the Southern Cross rode out of the 
water and stood dead ahead on our bow. 

It was the first time I had ever seen it, and yet 
I did not even notice it was beautiful ; for I was 
filled with a sensation I have felt before — felt 
when in darkness I have groped in a melon-patch 
where I knew the bulldog slept unchained. 

Having run the forts, we swung to the left out 
of range and slowed down until the ship scarce 
stirred a ripple on the water. We were com- 
manded to lay by our guns and rest. Was there a 
man who slept? I know only of what happened 
in the after-turret with its two 8-inch guns. 

The ammunition-hoist that served us both was 
the dividing-line of the crews: we were eight to 





a gun, each with a separate and distinct manhood, 
while as a gun-crew we were the combined vital 
parts of a steel monster that, gorged with destruc- 
tion, lay sleeping in darkness. 

I knew her as a mother knows her child, and 
twenty times I took the battle lantern in my hand, 
and, letting the tiniest of rays peep through its 
sheath of steel, looked caressingly upon the slum- 
bering gun to see if all was well. 

How I longed to waken her, to make her roar, 
and set all the batteries to screaming ! But I 
must wait, and as I waited I leaned my head upon 
her and looked out through her ill-defined port- 
hole into the night. 

Just to the right of Corregidor there lay an is- 
land. While I looked, something darker than the 
night traced slender grasses upon its crest, and 
they grew and grew into leaves of palm that 
softly fanned the breath of the tropics across the 

The breath of the tropics ! Like vaporous 
moon-drops that fall in honey-dew on certain 
plants, it spread its ooziness over our naked bod- 
ies and then it crept into my lungs and tried to 
smother me in the dark; but the lights of Manila 
cut through the gloom, so like a familiar picture 
that I had looked down upon from a hillside in 
my boyhood that I let go the battle lantern, went 
wandering away, away, and while I thus groped 
through the past, zigzags of lightning streaked 
the sultry night and flashed upon my heart im- 
ages that had grown dim at sea. 

Oh, the faces of my loved ones, never before so 
beautiful, so dear to me ! Fearlessly they filed 
before the cannon's mouth, each in his or her 
turn, like the ghosts of Macbeth. I knew it was 
a phantom of my fancy and yet I wanted to whis- 
per good-by to them as they passed. I tried to 
clear my throat, that I might speak, but my voice 
was gone. Inside my neck a cube of steel incased 
a ball of something that pressed and pained, but 
would not be swallowed. I tried again and again, 
but the pain crept up the sides of my head and 
out across my shoulders ; so I turned away and 
joined my comrades, where stories and jokes 
were flying in whispers, but no one spoke again 
of the past nor of the morrow, and the night 
dragged its interminable hours along. 

The lightning had ceased. From over the hill- 
tops beyond Manila a sob of light like a purpling 
mist bespoke the resurrection of the sun. 

At eight bells — four o'clock in the morning — 
coffee was served, and once more quarters were 

At a pace of six knots the Olympia took the 
lead, and with every man in the fleet at his post 
we steamed toward the mouth of the Pasig 

River, where masts and spires were forming sil- 
houettes against the dawn, which hastened to 
show us our mistake (they were foreign mer- 
chantmen) and to disclose the enemy. 

The Spanish squadron, protected by great 
booms hung with chains, and by lighters of stone 
and water, lay in line from Sangley Point to Las 
Pinas, and we swung our course and rode into the 
fray (for already they were shelling us from the 
forts) with a leisurely grace of manceuver that 
we could not have excelled on a Presidential re- 
view. And our hearts were threatening to burst 
from an intensity of desire as we listened to the 
calling of the ranges, and writhed under the or- 
der that passed along the line, "Hold your fire 
until the bugle sounds." 

The sun flashed his beams like a benison on the 
breaking of battle-flags from every flag halyard 
of America's fleet, and her seamen hurrahed until 
they were hoarse as they slowly continued the ad- 
vance and the orders still ran down the line, 
"Hold your tire until one bugle sounds," and an 
n-inch shell from the city's bastion passed 
over our quarter-deck. It sounded for all the 
world like a heavy freight-train going at full 
speed over a high trestle, but it did no harm. 
"A range-finder," some one said, and in the si- 
lence that followed, every one was thinking what 
might have been had the projectile sped ten feet 
lower. And still there was no order to answer 
this salute ! 

With cutlass and revolver buckled about his 
waist every man was at his station. Moments 
seemed hours. I sat upon the gun-seat repeating 
to the rhythm of the engine's throb, "Hold your 
fire — hold your fire — hold your fire until the bugle 
sounds," while my fingers grew numb upon the 

Everywhere shells were flying and mines were 
bursting, while we, with guns trained to deal 
death and destruction, were only on parade. 

Through the peep-hole that held the hair-sight 
of my gun, I saw the Spanish battle-flag break on 
the enemy's batteries, and we cheered, for they 
had answered our defiance, and still the orders 
came faster, "Hold your fire!" 

For less than a moment I would close my eyes 
for rest, for I was gun-pointer. The hair cross 
in the sight was growing indelible upon my 
vision, and then in the calling of the ranges I 
heard distinctly, "Twenty-one hundred yards," 
and following it the bugles sounded "Fire !" 

My eye was on the sight, my hand upon the 
bulb. That choking thing in my throat fled be- 
fore the flare of the bugle, and I pressed the spark 
with as little concern as I was wont to do at tar- 
get practice. 




A quiver ran through every nerve of the ship 
as we on the pivot guns joining the starboard bat- 
tery let loose a broadside into the enemy's fleet 
and left the Olympia in a cloud of white smoke 
that clung to us and enveloped us like a bank of 

The great gun, with a recoil of thirty-six 
inches, had belched her pent-up venom. Riding 
back on her trunnions, she slid again into battery 

gun-port, I saw the Spanish ships with masts 
tilted and lopped away pouring a stream of fire 
and steel toward us. The water was hissing from 
their contact, and we cheered the sight while the 
tub of water beneath the gun-breech turned inky 
from the swabbing. And up the hoist came fresh 

The carriage stopped at the breech. No. 5 
shoved in the shell. Another turn, and the first 


Copyright, 1907, by Enrique Muller. 

as No. 2, with crank in hand, stepped out to meet 
her; and for the first time it occurred to me to 
count the turning of the crank — one — two — three 
— four — five — six — seven — eight — nine — ten — 
eleven turns of the crank made by a stalwart 
arm, and the breech-block flew open. 

Leaning down from my seat, I picked the spent 
electric primer from the breech and tucked it 
away in the folds of the neckerchief tied about 
my head — a souvenir of the first shot that our 
gun-crew fired. 

A gentle morning breeze had fanned away the 
veil of smoke ; and, catching a glance through the 
Vol.. XXXV. -76-77. 

charge of powder stopped to follow the shell ; an- 
other, and the second charge ; and the truck ran 
back into the ammunition room below as I 
counted eleven turns of the crank and the breech 
was again closed upon a full charge. The kid 
took a fresh primer from his belt, and, adjusting 
it, signaled with his hand, "Ready!" and again 
we fired. So perfectly did each man know his 
part that our division officer had only to sit in the 
turret and look on. 

We were going bow-on toward the enemy when 
the Reina Christina, flag-ship, cut loose her barge, 
swung away, and came to meet us. We cheered 




her, and the order came, "Concentrate your fire 
on the flag-ship." We sent an 8-inch shell from 
stem to stern, through and through her, and 
still, like an enraged panther she came at us as 
though to lash sides and fight us hand to hand 
with battle-axes, as in the olden Spanish wars. 

Our ship had made its turn and the port bat- 
teries were manned, when an order came to train 
the big guns on the forts. We were aching for one 
more at the Reina, but our first shot at the fort 
dismounted one of her guns, exploded a magazine, 
and set fire to the arsenal. The strident echoes 
of the explosion sounded through the din of the 
combat, and we yelled in triumph. The battle- 

, ^m* 


fever was on us. Again I turned and counted 
eleven twice — when the breech-block opened, and 
when it closed — again the white veil shut out the 

When it lifted our gun was out of training, and 
I had leisure to look out. I noticed that the ad- 
miral's flag was gone from the Reina Christina 
and that boats were pulling away from her, and 
then I saw the flag break on the foremast of the 
Castillo. It was the signal that withdrew our at- 
tack from the Reina, and then — great heavens ! 
what was it ? We were struck ! 

Under our own broadsides we had quivered ; 
now we reeled, we careened. Were we sinking? 
Had they fired us ? But the firing was incessant, 
and the ship, righting herself, was making the 
second turn. When I had counted eleven twice 
again it was all forgotten, and we were literally 
pouring destruction upon the enemy. The Cos- 
tilla was sinking. A madman (Admiral Mon- 
tejo), leaving her by the lee side, returned to the 
Reina Christina with his flag, while a cry arose 
on our ship, "Here comes a torpedo-boat!" 

"Where ?" 

"There! — there! — here! — no, there! — she 's 
gone — no, here she comes ! the smoke ! Where 

is she? There, rounding the Castilla!" and a 
5-inch shell struck her amidship, broke her back, 
and she went down, bow and stern sticking out of 
the water like a bent straw with ends protruding 
from a goblet. Then, while I watched a tattooed 
fly undulating with the brawny muscles on the 
back of No. 4 of the port gun, I twice again 
counted eleven when a second torpedo-boat, un- 
daunted or maddened by the fate of her sister, 
came at us, and we drove her back and beached 

Slowly we advanced upon our enemy ; gallantly 
they came to meet us. The destruction we were 
dealing grew momentarily more visible, and when 
the newness of battle had passed (as it does in 
an inconceivably short time), I began to wonder 
what they had been doing to us. When I had 
counted eleven twice again, and our gun could no 
longer be brought to bear upon the enemy, I 
nerved myself to look into the dead faces of my 
shipmates. Going up out of the turret, I ran 
along the sun-scorched sanded decks and when I 
had made the round I thought I must be dream- 
ing, for every man was fighting at his post! 

I stopped to watch the onset — just as a pro- 
jectile struck and burst against our aft turret. It 
made a dent like the concave side of a wash-bowl 
in her armor-plate. A warm stream trickled 
down my leg as I felt the ship turning, and re- 
turned to my gun just as the bugle sounded, 
"Cease firing!" Some one in crossing the bridge 
had remarked that they (the enemy) must have 
ammunition to burn. 

In the confusion of noises only one word, "Am- 
munition," caught my ear, and we ceased firing 
and all steamed out into the middle of the bay to 
inventory shells — and incidentally to breakfast. 

I found time to pick out a bit of steel and an- 
other of shin-bone, where I had felt the warm 
blood, and I bound it up without reporting to the 
sick-bay. I never felt a pain until three days 
later, and then I was quite unable to stand upon 
the injured leg. 

Another among the Olympia's wounded (if I 
dare to call my scratch a wound) was Jack 
Heeney, the bo's'n's mate. Watching the battle 
with his hand resting upon a gun-shield, he had 
three fingers shot away. Jack already wears five 
enlistment stripes, and while his hand was being 
dressed he anxiously inquired if the loss of his 
fingers would debar him from future enlistment. 
Not a bit of it ! It only set the seal of battle 
upon him, and Jack is good to pipe quarters for 
half a century to come. 

The Spaniards evidently thought we had gone 
out to bury our dead, and while they thought us 
thus engaged, the batteries on Cavite kept up an 




incessant firing; but the range was too long; we 
were never safer in our lives ; and after there had 
been a conference of commanders on the Olym- 
pics quarter-deck, and each had gone back to his 
own ship to report that not a man had been killed 
in the engagement, the Asiatic squadron for the 

ships would meet on manceuver we would wildly 
cheer each other, although there was not a sound 
to our voices, for it was lost in the din of the 

Some one was heard to ask in all seriousness, 
"I wonder if they will report this racket in the 


moment was like the mad-houses of the world 
turned loose. When reason returned, again our 
battle-cry, "Remember the Maine!" rent the air, 
and we went back with vigor to the fray. 

We fought the enemy's line, passing five times 
up and down its length of ships and forts, cutting 
our path like a figure 8 (and all the time 
the navigator was sounding). Whenever our 

San Francisco papers ?" Of course they will, but 
I am wondering zuho can tell the tale ? What 
words can paint it? Can the pen tell how men go 
down in battle ? 

I saw boats freighted with wounded men go 
over the sides of sinking ships ; but they flaunted 
Spain's flag defiantly at us and we shelled them 
under; I saw tongues of fire licking up the decks 




of doomed vessels. These are but a few of the 
horrors I saw, and oh, I heard such noises ! The 
dull boom of the big guns and the spiteful snap- 
ping of our main batteries mingled with the clat- 
ter of musketry ! 

Ah, here is the place to say just one word for 
the poor marines, to record their excuse for liv- 
ing. What could we have done without them ? 


They were our sharp-shooters, cracking rifles 
through loopholes and sponsons, aiming for gun- 
ners on the enemy's ships. They were also our 
line of communication, calling ranges, and carry- 
ing orders that the bugle could not make heard. 

And while we on deck were seeing these things, 
what were the "black-gang" doing? 

Down there underneath the water, in a furnace- 
room that only Dante could portray, they heard 

the din and felt the shock of battle. They could 
not see, but counted the times we were struck 
(the Olympia received thirteen hits all told), and 
they stood at their posts as though out on a 
cruise, and ever and anon in the hushes a voice 
would call up through a ventilator or a hoist, 
"How are you making it?" An answer like "Just 
sunk another torpedo-boat," or "They have aban- 
doned the Reina Christina, 
and she is all afire," would 
drive them wild with a joy 
they would make manifest 
by beating upon the fur- 
nace-doors with their shov- 

When some one writes 
of all these things I hope 
he will not omit mention 
even of the "galley-hatch 
gang," they who long ago 
filed the hinge-screws of 
the alcohol chest until its 
lock became a howling 
joke, for with the fingers 
the screws could be re- 
moved and in the watches 
of the night its spirits let 

However, the night be- 
fore the battle, after the 
decks were cleared, to a 
man the "old guard" rallied 
about their standard, vo- 
ciferously declaring, "No 
Dutch courage for us; we 
will fight a sober battle." 
Then, with something of 
the air that characterizes a 
burial at sea, they slid the 
chest overboard. 

It was in the very excite- 
ment of war, while we were 
out beyond the reach of the 
enemy's shells, that I felt 
impressed as never before 
with the perfect workings 
of the human, as well as 
of the mechanical, parts of 
a man-of-war. While we breakfasted, Bill Bart- 
ley was securing a piece of sheet-iron over a hole 
a Spanish shell had put in our side, and, lest the 
enemy on our return might gloat over the sight 
of our bandaged wound, it was even painted be- 
fore we went back to complete the destruction 
we had begun. 

I do not believe that one half of the horrors 
of that day can ever be told; and for deeds of 





courage and daring — on our own ship, in the hot- 
test of the fight, a cleaning-stick broke inside one 
of the main batteries' guns, and it had to be 
trained in, in order to poke the broken bits out ; 
it was its officer who went outside of the spon- 
son to do the deed, although by a word he could 
have sent any man from his crew, and he would 
never have been thought a shirk or a coward. 
History writes more about the life and doings of 
one monarch than of all his subjects, but that is 
no reason why I, in this my private journal, 
should not jot down these simple facts about peo- 
ple in lowly station. 

Before high noon a white flag hung from the 
shears on Cavite's wall, and an hour later, when 
Admiral Montejo, under a similar flag, came on 
board, he would have parleyed with the little 
Commodore ; but Dewey demanded stoutly, 

"Do you surrender?" 

"Conditionally," was the answer. "Our cap-i- 
tan he die, he speaka fighty — fighty for Spain." 

"It 's either surrender — or fight !" exclaimed 
Dewey; and Montejo, bowing with the air of a 
cavalier of old, said, "I surrender." 

We were a sorry-looking lot to salute our col- 
ors when they broke where the flag of truce had 
hung. Our faces, begrimed with the smoke of 
battle, ran rivulets (born of the atmosphere) that, 
coursing down our cheeks, mingled with the salt- 
peter, eating them into stinging furrows. 

But the day did not end with the battle; that 
evening we pulled two whale-boats ashore at 
Cavite. Only our doctors and an officer landed, 
but I am glad to have been one to sit in the boat 
and look upon the picture. It was not unlike 

those I have seen of the Landing of Columbus. 
As we pulled shoreward, people wearing long 
robes came to meet us, and when our officers 
landed, priests and nuns knelt at their feet upon 
the beach, beseeching them for mercy. Some of 
them spoke fair English, yet it was with diffi- 
culty they were made to understand that our doc- 
tors had gone to them with only one intent — to 
care for their wounded. 

"What was it like, that battle?" do you ask? 

The thunders of heaven would have been lost 
in its din. It was fierce and fast, like the rolling of 
all the drums in the world, or like bolts of heavy 
sail-cloth torn into shreds by the wind. 

What a picture it would make — that battle, the 
last of the Spanish fleet, the Don Antonio de Ul- 
loa. She fought, sinking a foot a minute ! Gun 
after gun went under, and when the last onset 
was made, only her bow gun remained. Its crew, 
waist deep in water, fought as though victory 
were crowning them. It was theirs to fire the 
last gun upon that eventful day, and we cheered 
them as they sank. 

These are the things men will write about, but 
memory alone can paint a picture so terrible that 
the moon, that old night-watch of the universe, 
hid behind friendly vapors that she might not see 
the embers of war as they glared through the 
port-holes and sponsons of half-sunken ships, 
while ever and anon exploding magazines would 
tear the waters, and flames of yellow and red 
flaunt above all that was left of Spain's wreckage. 

Surely, Wellington was a Solomon when he 
wrote: "Nothing except a battle lost, can be half 
so melancholy as a battle won." 

( To be continued. ) 



May opens pinky apple-buds 
And fills the air with blossoms sweet; 
I love to climb and smell them close, 
But Robert thinks them good to eat; 

He pokes his soft nose in the midst 
And tries one branch and then another, — i 
Our dear black calf whom we have named 
Robert, because he 's fond of brother. 



Freddy Ray was big for his age, wearing a 
seven-year suit on a six-year-old body. But he 
thought he was older, much older than he was, 
and big — well, was n't he almost big as his 
father? At least he would be some day, and 
meanwhile he was growing! 

The Ray family — father, mother, and Freddy, 
six years old, going on seven — lived on a rock 
in the middle of the ocean, or, at least, five miles 
from any other land. There was a tall light- 
house on the rock, and at the base of this white 
tower was a tiny house with five rooms. This 
house was home, the only home Freddy ever 

The lighting of the great lamp of the light- 
house had always been a great attraction to 
Freddy. One day, when his father carried him 
up, up the winding stairs and showed him how 
the lamp was lighted and how its rays spread far 
out over the tossing ocean, Freddy felt that his 
little world was the most wonderful that any boy 
could imagine. Think of the hundred steps up 
the tall tower and the magnificent view from the 

But as time added another year to Freddy's 
age, his little mind soared to greater achieve- 
ments. He was accustomed to storms and rough 
weather. He knew that his father often went 
out in his little boat to help strange people who 
drifted near the shoals. Sometimes he brought 
them back in his boat, half dead and so white ! 
His mother then worked hard to give them warm 
clothing and hot things to drink and eat. 

Freddy at first was content to watch and help ; 
then he wanted to do more. He wanted to go 
with his father in the life-boat to pick up the 
shipwrecked people. 

"Some day, lad, when you get bigger," his 
father answered this request. 

After that Freddy asked every little while, 
"Am I big enough now to go with you in the 
boat, papa?" 

"Not yet — not quite yet," had always been the 

So Freddy had been forced to wait and grow. 
How he counted the days and looked at his figure 
in the glass to see if he was growing ! When he 
first donned his seven-year suit he felt surely that 
he was almost big enough to help save ship- 
wrecked people. 

As chance would have it, his opportunity did 
come a few days after this important event. 

There had been a storm at sea, not a very heavy 
storm, but one which made the sea pretty rough 
off the shoals. The day after the storm, the sun 
came up bright and warm. The sea was rolling 
in long swells. 

Not a mile away from the lighthouse some- 
thing was drifting heavily, swinging slowly up 
and down with the waves. A quick glance 
through the telescope showed that it was a dis- 
mantled sloop, a small coasting vessel abandoned 
by its crew. 

Mr. Ray quickly got his boat in the water, and 
was preparing to go to the derelict when Freddy's 
lips faltered : 

"Papa, I am big enough to go!" 

There was a smile on the light-keeper's lips, 
and, after glancing up at the weather and down 
at the se,a, he said : 

"Yes, Freddy, you can go to-day. Jump in the 

Now there was no happier boy in all the world 
than Freddy Ray at that moment. He fairly 
tumbled down the steps and dropped snugly in 
the stern of the life-boat. His eyes were bright 
and glowing. Was n't he going to a real wreck? 

The row to the dismantled sloop was not a 
long or rough one, and Mr. Ray pulled so lustily 
at his oars that they were alongside in no time. 
When they reached the sloop Freddy gazed at it 
in awe. Would there be half-drowned people 
aboard, and would he be strong enough to help 
his father lift them into the life-boat? 

"Now, boy, you stay quietly in the stern until 
I come back," cautioned his father. 

He tied the boat to the stern of the sloop and 
then nimbly climbed aboard. He was gone a 
long time, so long that Freddy got worried. What 
would he do if anything happened to his father? 
Could he row back to the lighthouse? What if 
another storm should come up and make the 
ocean very rough? 

He was thinking of such dreadful things when 
Mr. Ray appeared above and shouted: 

"Nobody aboard, Freddy. She 's been deserted 
for a long time. We '11 go back home now." 

This announcement was not pleasing to our lit- 
tle mariner. What a disappointment to go to a 
shipwreck and then find nobody, and not even go 
aboard the wreck ! 

"But, papa, there might be somebody in — in — -" 

His father shook his head. 

"No, lad, I 've been everywhere." 




Then, noticing the disappointment on the little 
face, he added: "But if you want to come aboard 
and look I '11 let you. I forgot this was your 
first shipwreck. Here, now, hold fast to my hand 
and I '11 pull you up." 

Freddy climbed up, with his father's assistance, 
almost as easily as a veteran sailor. He stood on 
the deck of the old abandoned sloop in a moment. 
One glance showed him the awful desolation of 
the wave-swept craft. Mast, spars, sail, and rig- 
ging were tumbled about in a confused mass, and 
part of the cargo of lumber was shifted over to 
one side. 

"Be careful, little man, and hold tight to my 
hand," his father cautioned. "I '11 take you to the 
cabin, and show you what an abandoned boat 
looks like." 

Freddy seemed to come naturally into the use 
of his little sea-legs. He did not lurch and roll 
with each toss of the boat, but walked steadily 
forward. When they came to the cabin, Mr. Ray 
threw open the door, and — 

Suddenly both of them started. Something 

moved inside, and then t 1 « i mild cry of 

some frightened animal. Re darkness a 

bundle of white appeared :e directly to- 

" d Freddy and mewed. 

'It 's a pussy-cat, papa — a white pussy !" 

Freddy took the frightened creature in his arms 
and stroked its soft fur. The kitten mewed and 
rubbed its nose in his face. 

"Do you suppose he belongs to somebody, 
papa ?" asked Freddy anxiously. 

"It belongs to you, little man. if to any one. 
You rescued him, and I don't think anybody will 
take it away from you." 

All the way back to the lighthouse home, 
Freddy held the kitten in his arms, and stroked 
and patted its head. In his affection for the 
shipwrecked cat he even forgot to notice the 
waves or the condition of the weather. The one 
fact to impress his mind was that he had made 
his first rescue from a shipwreck, and he would 
always keep the kitten for his own. He wanted a 
playmate — a kitten or dog — and now the sea had 
brought him one all for his own self. 



The days are nice and long again, 
The school is full of sun, 

The children like to feel the heat, 
And blossom-time 's begun. 

Arbutus and hepaticas 

Come first, and then you find 
Anemones and violets 

And ferns of every kind. 
And often, when the weather 's 

I pick a bunch for Mother, dear. 






I have a little wat'ring-pot, 
It holds two quarts I think, 

And when the days are very hot 
I give the plants a drink. 

They lift their heads as flowers should, 

And look so green and gay ; 
I 'm sure that if they only could, 
"We thank you, Sir," they 'd say. 


Sometimes Mother gives to me 
Such a lot of money — See ! 
But it 's very hard to buy 
All the things you 'd like to try, 
And you always share your penny 
With a child who has n't any. 



The romping boys 

Make lots of noise, 
And run and jump and laugh and shout, 

While here and there, 

With quiet air, 
The girls in couples walk about. 

A game begins, 

But no one wins, 
Although they play with might and main, 

For long before 

The game is o'er 
The bell rings out for school again. 

Although we like to go to school, 

We 're rather glad to put away 
Our books and slates and other things, 

When it is over for the day 

And off we go to play and romp, 

While teacher, who is good and kind, 

Is left behind all by herself — 

But then, perhaps, she does n't mind. 

Study them well on Friday, 

For it 's much the better way, 
Because when once they 're finished 

You 've all Saturday for play. 


BY W. G. F. 

In the Old World the 

children of a great Im- 
perial or Royal house 
turn naturally to the 
Army or Navy as a ca- 
reer from their very 
earliest years. Thus 
the German Emperor's 
ambition for his eldest 
son is to see him quali- 
fying himself to com- 
mand, not a regiment 
or a brigade, but an 
entire division of 30,000 
troops — if not with the 
skill of a Von Moltke, 
then at least with the adroitness of any other of 
the Kaiser's generals, who form the brain-power 
of the mightiest army on earth. 

On the other hand, the children of the British 

>graph by F. Ralph. Reproduce 
by permission. 


Royal house gravitate naturally toward the Navy : 
and the Prince of Wales' eldest son, little Prince 
Edward, some three or four years ago com- 
manded an imposing "battle-ship," in the shape 
of a toy brig, about forty feet long, which floated 
the "White Ensign" on the lovely wooded lakes 
of Ascot, Virginia Water, and other beautiful 
localities round about medieval old Windsor 

The chief personages on board this "war-ship" 
were Prince Edward of York — to give its com- 
mander his full title — and his younger brother, 
Prince Albert ; and even the baby, Prince Henry, 
sometimes manifested a desire for a cruise. 

But the little Prince's training-brig was far 
from being a toy in the strictest sense of the term. 
For Prince tZdward will undoubtedly enter the 
Navy, as his father did before him; and the good 
training-brig, King Edzvard VII, was intended to 
initiate the youngster into life on board a real 




war-ship. Several days — usually Wednesdays 
and Saturdays — Prince Eddie would go on board 
at Virginia Water, accompanied by a young 
naval officer and a couple of picked seamen. 

The toy brig was manceuvered up and down the 
lake, and elementary instruction was given the 
little Prince at every new manceuver. The idea 
of naval discipline was strictly observed, and his 
tutors insisted upon prompt obedience and real 
attention to the routine of duty. There are beau- 
tiful little model guns on board which were spec- 
ially made for this war-ship in the great factory 
for naval ordnance at Woolwich. 

It must have been a pretty sight to see the little 
Prince scrambling up the tall masts or rope lad- 
ders to furl sails or fasten strings of flags on 
Nelson's Day. It will be noticed that Prince Ed- 
die's brig is a sailer ; but it was thought well to 
accustom the child to every phase of seamanship ; 
and after a year or two this trim little craft, 
which cost the British nation nearly $8,000, was 
to be passed on to Prince Albert, his brother; 
while he himself would either be given a minia- 
ture steam war-ship, or else be drafted to some 
small real gunboat, and so learn all about the 
navy which some day he may command. 





by agnes McClelland daulton 

Author of " From Sioux to Susan, 

Fritzi," etc. 

Chapter XIII boxes she carried, was scrambling breathlessly, 

joyously, up Hessian Hill. 

THE SEA-GREEN GOWN J -;.,,., J r . .„ 

Whooee, whoo-oo-ee ! 
"Whooee! whooee! whooee!" There was no answer, and Bab, tired out, was 

It was Bab, who, running one minute, falling forced to sit down among the pennyroyal and 
the next, yet never once dropping the precious daisies, for a breathing-spell. 




The sun beat down pitilessly. upon the hillside, 
and the great boxes Bab carried, quaint, posied 
things of pink and green, were almost as large as 
herself. Jim had dropped her at the Trotts' as 
he drove by, but Drusie told her curtly that the 
whole family, except Mr. Trott, who was "fussin' 
with pickles in the back kitchen, and not seein' 
company," was up at the sky parlor. So, with- 
out thinking of the size of her burdens, nor the 
steepness of the climb, she had started up the hill, 
winding her mellow : 

"Whooee! whooee ! whooee!" like a hunter's 

"Whooee ! whooee ! whooee !" 

The welcome answer came from above, where 
Maze's funny little phiz suddenly poked itself 
over the rail fence. 

"Mercy me !" she shrilled, waving her red 
sunbonnet by one string. "If you don't beat 
everything. Why did n't you bring a dray? 
Poor old girl !" 

Bab had tripped again, and sat on her knees 
looking laughingly up at them, for Bart was at 
the fence now and vaulted it with one bound. 

"Just wait a minute," he called, "till I get there. 
Whatever did you come up that side for?" he in- 
quired as he raised Bab to her feet, and captured 
both boxes. "The roadway is just back of the 
house, we drive the Rabbit up every day, and why 
did you bring all your luggage? Are you think- 
ing of staying a week in the sky parlor?" 

"Just you be careful of that bandbox, if you 
please, and don't ask questions," laughed Bab as 
she scrambled on up the hill. "Drusie saw me 
start that way, and never said a word about a 
road. I always came up from Brook Acres be- 

"Hurry up, you two," piped Maze, standing on 
the second rail, and leaning over as far as she 
dared. "Those boxes are just fairly screaming 
with mystery." 

"Just you wait till you see what 's in them, 
Mazie," panted Bab, reaching the fence at last. 
"It 's just the loveliest — beautifullest — that ever 
was !" 

"Well, up and over then," laughed Bart, drop- 
ping the boxes over to Maze, and helping Bab to 
the top of the fence. "There you are L Now 
take a rest !" 

"Whooee ! Here we are, and here is Bab 
Howard, 'most dead with climbing up the south 
side of the hill," cried Maze, crashing through 
the underbrush, followed by Bab and Bart. 

"Oh, you dear Bab!" cried everybody. 

"My," gasped Bab, "but it 's good to get here, 
and oh — and oh — Mrs. Trott, just wait till I get 
my breath, just one weeny-teeny minute, and 

now — " And then before any one could stop 
her, down on her knees she went before Mrs. 
Trott, and folding her hands together, coaxed 
with eyes, and voice, and soul, one monstrous 


as only Bab Howard could coax. 

"Why, why," laughed Mrs. Trott, taking both 
pleading hands in hers, "whatever is it, honey? 
What can I say if you make eyes as big as that 
at me ? Of course I have n't a single idea of 
what you 're asking for, but it 's yours, Bab, it 's 
yours. Anything except Daddy and the babies. 
What is it, the Rabbit?" 

"Oh, but you see," pleaded Bab, "it is n't to 
give, it 's to take — or — or, rather, to borrow. Oh, 
Mrs. Trott, if you only will, I '11 love you for ever 
and ever. You see," she hurried on, as Mrs. 
Trott's face grew doubtful. "I knew about your 
not having the right sort of a gown for your 
part — but there, just wait till you see." Already 
she was on her feet, untying the strings of the 
biggest box like mad. 

"Look," she implored, "oh, just look!" And 
she held up for their inspection the sea-green tis- 
sue, with its border of pink velvet roses. 

"Oh!" gasped everybody, "oh!" 

"Is n't it lovely? Is n't it spring itself? Oh, 
here, take the gown, Christie, until I show you 
the bonnet. Oh, nobody, nobody could be hard- 
hearted enough to resist the bonnet, with its 
peaches, and its nest of eggs, and its dear little 
mother bird. Oh, Mrs. Trott, oh, girls, is n't it a 

As Bab set the coal-scuttle Neapolitan upon 
her head, and looked at them gaily from under 
its inner rose-wreath, a shout of laughter arose, 
for she did look funny, with her short skirts and 
long braids topped by the enormous bonnet. 

"Get on to the calf shed !" crowed Bart. 

"And just see the funny old yellow gloves, and 
the coral beads with the rose-colored fan — and, 
oh, this funny reticule," cried Maze, fishing in 
the box for herself. 

"Bab— Bab!" faltered Mrs. Trott, hardly 
knowing whether to laugh or cry, a condition 
often reached by Bab's victims. "They are very, 
very beautiful, I never even imagined anything 
so perfect for the part. But where did you get 
them, and oh, my dear, how can I accept ?" 

"Now, you just please listen to me, dear Mrs. 
Trott," replied Bab, impressively as she could 
under the shadow of the bonnet. "These things 
were once Miss Clothilda Linsey's, and she has 
been dead for ages, so she will never need them 
again, and she left all her pretty clothes to Aunt 
Kate, who does n't care a penny for clothes and 




bonnets. Aunt Twilla has always kept them 
locked up in a wardrobe with lots of other pretty 
things, and she showed them to me one day. I 
just fell dead in love with this gown, and when 
Joan told me about your needing one — " 

"Oh, Joan," grieved Mrs. Trott. 

"Dear Aunt Sallie, but I never dreamed of Bab 
telling Miss Linsey, and I was feeling so sorry," 
wailed contrite Joan. 

"But, please, please, listen, Mrs. Trott, before 
you refuse," begged Bab. "Nobody will ever 
wear these things again, and nobody has worn 
them for ages, you can smell for yourself how 
moth-ball-y they are. And last evening when I 
explained all about it to Aunt Kate, she — she said 
you were a brave, good woman, and she was 
proud of you, and of course you could have 
Clothilda's gown to wear, for Miss Twilla 
would n't mind, and Aunt Kate said I was to trust 
to her, and that I was especially to tell you to 
take it and wear it, and do your best, and — and 
to keep a brave heart, for courage like yours al- 
ways won in the end. And, oh, please, please, Mrs. 
Trott," and now Bab had both arms about her. 
"I just believe, if you take it and don't say a 
word, something awfully good will come to Mr. 
Trott. I did n't mean to tell but — I '11 just have 
to if you won't listen — I told her all about the 
pickle factory again; how you all wanted to help, 
and then, how you could stay at home with the 
children, and what a perfectly wonderful pickle 
and a jam genius Mr. Trott really was, and that 
he told me it would take a lot of money to start. 
She asked me if he had said how much, and when 
I said 'no,' she said I should ask Mr. Trott to 
give me a jar of pickles and some of the lemon 
honey, so she could taste for herself to see if he 
was as talented as I said. Then she chuckled 
deep down in her throat, as she does when she 
is pleased, and said she did n't like to think of a 
genius going to waste, especially a jam genius. 
Then she pinched my cheek and told me to run 
away to bed. Oh, Mrs. Trott, please don't refuse 
the gown, but give Mr. Trott a chance." 

Mrs. Trott had listened to Bab's long story in 
silence, and though her cheeks flushed, she kissed 
her fondly and said : 

"You are the dearest, little warm-hearted 
thing that ever breathed, Bab, and, oh, child, you 
will always be carrying the burdens of the world 
on your small shoulders — and I 'd — I 'd rather 
not have people worried with our troubles, but, 
oh, I dare not refuse." 

"Oh, mother, you must n't," cried Nell and all 
the rest. 

"Do let me dress you up, mother, there is a 
dear," begged Christie, "you can hold up the skirt, 

and the grass is short and clean. Please do, 
you '11 look so lovely." 

"Well, well," and Mrs. Trott, unable to resist 
the chorus of coaxing, laid down the basket she 
was filling and reluctantly put herself into 
Christie's hands. "But, after all, dearies, it is n't 
the dress that was the greatest trouble, it 's that 
hateful, hateful dance. I 've been an old-fash- 


ioned stage lady too many years. This frisky 
kind is beyond me. I feel like a regular dodo, 
extinct at that. You should have heard yesterday 
the stage-manager thunder, 'Limber up, madam, 
limber up !' " 

"Old beast!" muttered Bart. 

"No, laddie, no!" laughed his mother, blowing 
him a kiss from her finger-tips. "He 's really a 
lovely old gentleman, so fat and clean, bless his 
heart ! with a wig and a monocle, he has to squint 
like this to keep it in, you know. He has a nice 
old fat wife and ten children, and he is very 
kind-hearted — but — let 's be fair, sonny, what- 
ever we do, there I was, pounding up and down 
as solemn as a church steeple. I did n't blame 
him a bit. I could have died laughing at myself, 




if my heart had n't been so heavy. Dearie me," 
she sighed, "if I was n't such a stupid clown." 

"Now, mother, don't you worry," said Christie, 
as she wisked the sea-green skirt over her mo- 
ther's head. "Stand still, honey, till I hook this. 
You '11 get that step yet; Jean has been so sweet 
about coming over to help you." 

"Has she?" inquired Bab, a bit blankly, she 
could n't imagine Jean at the Trotts' without her. 

"Why, she comes almost every day. And her 
mother was with her yesterday. We thought she 
was just lovely. Here, mother, put your arms 

"My, is n't the sweep of this skirt 'grandocious,' 
as Christie said once," and Mrs. Trott stroked 
the shining breadths. "I am to wear a gray wig 
with little bobbing curls at the side, you know. 
Now, the bonnet. Gracious ! It 's like putting up 
an awning, you can only guess where the sun is 
Let Joan tie the bow. Give it a little airy twist, 
lovey, Miss Mittie is such a dear, she would be 
sure to give character even to her bonnet strings. 
— Now, my gloves — " 

"Short gloves with flowing sleeves," giggled 

"Of course, latest thing in the fifties. Now 
my fan, and my reticule. There, children, will I 

"Oh, oh, oh !" shrieked everybody. 

"Here 's Jean," cried Christie, and sure 
enough, there she was, smiling at them from the 
"door," and if Mrs. Trott had doubted — which 
she did n't — the admiring shrieks from her own 
brood, "adopted Trott" included, she could not 
doubt Jean's delighted face. 

"Oh, Mrs. Trott, how beautiful! It 's like a 
lovely picture," she exclaimed. 

"Thanks to your aunt, Miss Linsey, and to my 
adopted daughter," laughed Mrs. Trott, giving 
them all a sweeping bow. 

"Is n't she fine?" asked Maze, proudly. 

"But, oh, girls, to work, to work, or we will 
never get the baskets done !" groaned Joan. 

"Jean, dear, you go on and give mother her 
lesson. She 's dreadfully blue about it. Bart, 
you whistle for them," said Nell ; "but all the rest 
of us must fall to. Come on, kiddies." 

In less than an hour, every basket was ready 
and in a jiffy, everybody helping, they were all 
safe in the old barouche. 

"I wish I could go with you," laughed Bab, 
looking longingly into the flowery bower, as Bart 
set a soap-box for a seat among the greenery so 
he could steady any basket that seemed "jumpy." 
"I always thought I 'd love to sell things." 

"Well, these are sold, but I '11 tell you what 
you can do," said Seth. "Bart and I can ride on 
Vol. XXXV. -78. 

the front seat and you and Jean can sit on the 
box and look after the baskets. We will drop 
you at Brook Acres. It is n't a motor-car, but it 
is better than walking down hill, in the sun." 

"Oh, goody, I 'd love it," cried Bab. "Come on, 
Jean, it will be heaps of fun." 

"I will gladly, if you will stay a few days with 
me, Bab," replied Jean, slipping her arm around 
her cousin. "We can telephone to Aunt Kate. 
Mother would so love to have you, and father is 
home, too. He and mother have gone for a spin. 
But they will be back to luncheon. Please, come, 
Bab — I miss you so." 

"Why, of course, Jean, I '11 go," agreed Bab, 
and in they hopped. 

"Good-by ! Come again. Thank you so much," 
cried all the Trotts. And down the hill started 
the meek Rabbit with his precious load. 

Chapter XIV 


Joan, with her rickety easel under one arm, her 
color-box and a hastily packed lunch under the 
other — having slipped out the back way, with no 
one's knowledge but Aunt Sallie's — was speeding 
away toward Durley and the sunken garden for 
a long delightful day with her paints. 

In spite of worries, and Joan as a member of 
the Trott family had more worries than most 
girls, her spirits rose as she turned the key in the 
rusty old lock and opened the little green door. 

There lay the sunken garden, so green, so gay 
with straggling flowers, so peaceful, so exquisite 
in the morning sunshine, that Joan, with her art- 
ist's soul, felt the happy tears spring to her eyes. 

How was simple little Joan to know that the 
headless Mercury, poised so lightly among the 
vineing honeysuckles, the weathered ivory-tinted 
Flora by the rose hedge, the moss-grown marble 
seat, the stone sun-dial had been brought from 
Italy, and each set in its place by a great land- 
scape gardener, in Grandfather Linsey's time, to 
charm just such heaven-given tastes as she, all 
unknown to herself, possessed. To her this lovely 
spot had just dreamed itself into being. It was 
too beautiful to be real, and so, with feverish 
eagerness, she planted her easel by the fountain, 
fearing, without knowing it, that she might awake 
before it was all set down. 

It was the Mercury she was to paint this time, 
against the green, with the red and white poppies 
at his feet, and a bit of the old stone wall, and, oh, 
if she could only catch the flickers of mellow light 
that filtered through the leaves upon its mossy 
grayness ! If she only was n't so ignorant, so 
clumsy ! If only she could paint it as she felt it. 




Oh, she had read, and reread, "Painting Made 
Easy in Twenty Lessons." She knew parts of it 
by heart, but it did n't seem to tell anything you 
really wanted to know. How should you paint 
sunlight, the nickering shadow on the yellow old 
marble? How could you get the grace of the 
poppy as it swayed in the breeze? How catch 
that something, so subtle, so lovely — the languor, 
the dreaminess, the very spirit of the garden? 

Then she took up her brushes and went to 
work bravely, patiently, and industriously, as she 
had drudged at the baskets. She hardly stopped 
for lunch, when the sun-dial told her it was noon. 
She hardly paused to dream, though Joan loved 
dreaming. She painted in, she washed out to 
paint in again, and all the time in her heart she 
knew she had never, never, never been so happy 
in all her life before. To be sure, the picture on 
the easel was not what she saw, nor what she felt, 
buc it had a something — it was a tiny part of the 
vision, and even in her striving she felt the charm 
of her own work. She had at least caught 
beauty's shadow with that crude brush of hers. 

The afternoon was growing late and Joan still 
painted on. Such days as these were few, and she 
must make the most of it. The shadows were 
growing long, and the poppies, as if they had 
taken a sip of their opium, showed signs of sleepi- 
ness, but on flew Joan's busy brush. 

"Poor me! Poor me!" 

As the weird, harsh voice broke the stillness of 
the garden, Joan, shaking with fear, sprang to 
her feet and quick as a flash looked up at the 

She had been quick, but some one had been 
quicker. The window was open and empty, but 
surely — yes, surely — she had seen a face. It had 
been but a glimpse, but she had seen it. Pale, 
sad-eyed and crowned with a glory of red hair. 

It was n't any one she had ever seen before, 
but — but you could n't think of a ghost with red 
hair, even if there were such things as ghosts. 
Oh, for Bab's wisdom to unravel fhis mystery, 
but Bab was still over at Brook Acres with Jean. 
It must be some one in dreadful trouble to wail 
out like that in such a queer, uncanny voice. 

Oh, dear — but all this time Joan was washing 
brushes like mad in the fountain and screwing up 
paint-tubes. For Joan had learned the practical 
side of life in a hard school, and when these 
colors were gone she had no idea where the next 
ones were to come from, so she laid them care- 
fully away in the tin box, though her knees 
quaked, her fingers shook, and her breath came as 
quickly as if she had been running. 

At last she was ready and, folding up her easel, 
she ran hastily to the steps, but safely there, 

paused once more to look back at the window. 
A hand, white and shapely, was just setting a pot 
of red geraniums upon the sill. 

"Poor me! poor me!" wailed the voice, and a 
horrid peal of laughter rang out over the silent 

Joan did n't wait, but flew out of the door in 
the wall, banged it shut, locked it behind her, and 
then, though the old easel thumped her painfully, 
she flew down the hill toward home. 

Chapter XV 


Bab let herself out of the swinging gate in the 
box hedge and went hippety-hopping across the 
meadow to the chestnut-tree by the brook. Jean 
and she had just come back from a scamper with 
Star and Comet, and Bab was pining to see if 
there was any mail for her in the secret post- 

Reaching her destination, she stood upon tiptoe 
and felt deep in the mossy hole. Evidently some 
one from the Trotts had been to the tree lately, 
for there was nothing for them. Let 's see — a 
note for Jean from Christie; that peach-stone 
basket that Bart had promised her, Bab, for the 
last month, and a note from Maze, and a great 
big, big fat letter from Joan, which she imme- 
diately sat down to read. More and more excited 
she grew as she skimmed down the pages, but 
suddenly with eyes shining, cheeks flaming, she 
sprang to her feet, and went tearing over the 
meadow toward Brook Acres. 

"Aunt Millicent, Jean," she called as she closed 
the hall door after her. 

"Yes, dear," came Mrs. Linsey's pleasant voice 
from the library. 

"I 'm going, — oh, please, aunty," cried Bab, 
flying across the hall. "May n't I go back to 
Durley right now. It 's awfully, awfully impor- 
tant. I know Aunt Kate is n't expecting me to 
finish my visit until to-morrow, but I don't be- 
lieve she will care, and I can ride Comet over. 
Oh, please, aunty, say yes." 

"Oh, Bab, not to-night," wailed Jean. 

"You know I '11 come back that much sooner, 
Tean; and it 's so important, aunty. Please, may 

I go?" 

As usual Bab had her way, and a few moments 
later, she was skimming down the Serpentine to 
the gay clickety-clackety of Comet's flying feet. 

In Joan's letter she had learned of the voice, 
the sad, pale face, the slender hand, and, most 
exciting, the horrible laughter, Joan underscored 
the word three times, and Bab had felt the most 
delightful chills go prancing up and down her 




silly little spine. Joan wasn't afraid, she said, 
not a bit, but she preferred to have Bab with her 
the next time she painted in the sunken garden. 
Bab was n't afraid, she only felt so queer and 
creepy, but then it was so exciting. Besides, she 
was awfully, awfully angry, she told herself, for 
Joan had insinuated, most basely insinuated, that 
since there were no such things as ghosts and 
witches, why Aunt Kate — dear, darling Aunt 
Kate — must be a cruel tyrant, keeping a hopeless, 
sorrowing prisoner shut up in the west wing. It 
was this, this that was sending Bab, red-cheeked 
and starry-eyed, back to Durley. She must in- 
vestigate. She, Bab, in spite of horrible laughter 
and chills up her spine should lift this cloud 
from Aunt Kate's name. Bab was indignant, 
horrified, she told herself, but oh, how happy she 
was as she flew along. 

Miss Twilla and Miss Kate were so happy over 
Bab's return that dinner was over, and early twi- 
light already falling, before she found the chance 
to escape out of the front door, and fly down the 
great veranda to the west wing. 

The sunken garden lay all sweet-smelling and 
misty under the dew, as Bab fearfully opened the 
green door and let herself in. The headless Mer- 
cury stood white and weird against the honey- 
suckle. The trickle-trickle of the falling water 
from the satyr's goatskin came eerily through 
the dusk. Bab glanced up at the west wing war- 
ily, the chills were scampering, but she loved 
them and stood hugging herself ecstatically as 
the latch on the door clicked and she knew she 
was really shut inside— the mysterious window 
stood blankly open to the garden. Even when she 
stood on tiptoe upon the highest step, she could 
see nothing inside, but the white curtain that 
moved ever so faintly in the evening breeze. 

Softly Bab let herself, step by step, down into 
the garden. Fairly holding her breath she crept, 
drawing her stiff little white skirts close about 
her. Tiptoeing, tiptoeing, down the path, now 
among the roses, then among the lilies. Once a 
toad giving a frantic hop right at her feet sent her 
scurrying back of a high bush for a moment, then 
on she went again until she stood in the high 
grass just beneath the dreadful open window. 

Nothing to see nor hear — only the open win- 
dow, the peaceful, white curtain. Nothing — 

"Oh !" gasped Bab. 

"Mutter — Mutter — Mutter!" fell upon her 
strained ears, "Mutter— Mutter— Mutter." That 
was surely the dreadful voice muttering sleepily 
to itself. "Poor me! poor me! Mutter — Mutter 

"Oh, tiresome Pollykins," cried a clear voice, 

so directly over Bab's head, and so unexpectedly, 
that, standing as she was upon tiptoe, she toppled 
over and sat suddenly down in the deep, dewy 
grass. "Oh, you ridiculous, tiresome Pollykins. 
It is n't poor you at all, it 's poor me, poor me. If 
it was n't for dear Miss Kate and my honor, 
Pollykins, I 'd run away from here this very night 
and never look upon this dreadful garden again." 
The girl at the window — for Bab could see that 
she was but a girl, pale-faced, and with a great 
knot of red hair for a crown — set her palms upon 
the stone ledge and leaned far out as if to breathe 
deeper of the fragrant night. Bab still sitting 
hugged closer to the wall. 

"But, oh, I ought n't to say that of the garden ; 
it has been my good friend," went on the girl 
with a contrite catch in her voice. "It just gets 
on my nerves sometimes, at dusk like this, when 
you are so tiresome, Pollykins, and pity yourself 
all the time. I 'm the one you should pity, poor 
me, poor me, for oh, it 's all so wicked and unjust. 
But I 'm crying again and I shan't, I shan't. I '11 
fight it out, but oh, if somebody would find that 
horrid crown ! I shall hate diamond crowns all 
the days of my life. Oh, Pollykins, Pollykins 
pity me, do." 

"Mutter, Mutter, Mutter," said the sleep 
voice. "Poor me, poor me" and then over the 
garden rang that strange, harsh laughter that had 
so frightened Joan. 

A parrot ! Of course. How ridiculous that 
she had never thought of it ! And Bab, now that 
the girl had gone from the window, crept out of 
her damp nest and warily back to the green door. 

"If I were a really detective," thought Bab, as 
she scuttled back along the veranda, "I could 
help that poor girl right away. But, oh, dear, 
I 'm just a stupid little girl and how can I find a 
diamond crown?" 

"Bab, Bab ! Why child, you frighten me half 
to death." It was Aunt Kate who had just 
opened the screen door. "I 've been looking for 
you all over the house. Come in this minute, and 
go right up to your room and to bed. You surely 
know you should not be out this late. You have 
made sister Twilla so nervous I 'm afraid she 
won't sleep half the night. Yes, you may stop 
and say good night to her. I am surprised at 
you, Bab." 

"Oh, dear," sighed Bab, as she crept into bed. 
"That poor, poor girl — and did n't I know all 
the time it was n't Aunt Kate's fault? But why 
did Aunt Twilla say nobody lived in the west 
wing, and wherever and ever shall I find the dia- 
mond crown ?" 

( To be continued. ) 


•v ^»n e> a- II 


With Pussy Willow's April cards 

The social season is at hand. 
Her outdoor functions are most swell, 

With music by the Tree-toad band. 


All May the Birds keep open house; 

And every nest has some young thing, 
To celebrate a coming-out, 

Or at a matinee to sing. 




hi f *s|ir 

Daisies and Buttercups receive 
On every pleasant day in June ; 

One meets there Butterflies and Bees- 
The dancing lasts till rise of moon. 

And after Ladybug's "At Home," 
The world of fashion all is bid 

To Firefly's carnival, or hops 
With Cricket, and with Katydid. 

The Owl and Bat have their "All Nights"; 

The Kittens give green catnip teas; 
The raw-food lunch is Chipmunk's fad; 

Dormouse delights in husking bees. 


Such blithe affairs in constant round 
A smart-set Elf of course attends ; 

No wonder rest-cure is prescribed 
Just as the social season ends. 






Alaska means great land, and, as you can all see 
on the map, it is a great land far west of Canada 
and north of the United States. It was discov- 
ered in 1728 by Vitus Bering, a Danish sailor in 
the Russian service, and it belonged to Russia till 
1867 when the United States bought it for 
$7,200,000. This country is so very far north 
that I am sure if I asked you who lived there 
you would say that the people must all be Eski- 
mos, and you are quite right, for Eskimos do 
live there, but besides the Eskimos there are In- 
dians who live there, too. They are not as wild 
and war-like as the red men further south, and 
are so willing to live as white men do that we 
have not needed to put them on reservations. 
Indeed, they would have given Uncle Sam no 
trouble at all but for the bad traders who would 
sell the Indians whisky, and no Indian is of much 
account when he begins to like "fire-water" better 
than anything else. 

It was in 1875 that one of these Alaskan In- 
dian chiefs, Fernandeste, was seized by some 
white men, made prisoner on board a steamer, 
and taken to Portland, Oregon. Some of the 
white men could talk Stickeen, the Indian lan- 
guage, and they frightened Fernandeste so much 
because he thought he would forever disgrace 
his people that he died before the ship reached 
land. Now the Indians loved this chief very 
much, and when the news came back his family 
was overcome with grief. All the Indians said 
they must make the white men give them a great 
present for this bad treatment of Fernandeste or 
they would be„ cowards, and whatever happened 
his body must be brought back to Alaska. 

Now at this time Uncle Sam had sent me with 
a portion of the United States army, to take care 
of the northwestern part of our country, so when 
I heard the story of Fernandeste I decided to go 
to Alaska and tell his friends how sorry I was 
and try to make them happy. It was vacation 
time, so my children went along for a trip. 

From Tacoma, on Puget Sound, we sailed to 
Victoria, the capital of British Columbia, and 
there went on board the steamer California for 
Alaska. What a glorious trip it was sailing be- 
tween rough-faced mountain sides 3000 feet high, 
some snow-capped, some covered with feathery 
trees. Such a strange country, too, for the sun 

stayed up all night and at ten o'clock I could 
read as well as at noon. My children did n't 
want to go to bed at all, and I remember what 
queer things we hung up at the windows to 
darken the rooms so the children could sleep. 

At last one morning we anchored in a bay near 
an island and on that island was an army post 
called Fore Wrangel. There was a stockade 
around it made of the trunks of trees fifteen feet 
high, and there were heavy double gates made of 
logs fastened together. The commanding officer 
of the fort and Kalemste, sub-chief of the Wran- 
gel Indians, came. to meet us, and with them we 
went to the stockade. All the buildings of the 
fort were inside the stockade, and the officers 
and soldiers felt very safe when the gates were 
shut. Now some soldiers opened the gates for us 
to pass in. Kalemste and two other Indians were 
allowed to enter, but all others turned back to 
their homes on the other end of the island. 

These Wrangel Indians do not live in tepees 
and wigwams as the Indians further south, but 
in long houses made of immense planks split 
from large trees. A whole family — children, 
parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, and 
even some few friends live in one house. There 
is room enough in the middle on the ground to 
build fires and a small hole in the roof to let out 
some of the smoke. But the strangest thing of 
all were the totem poles. In front of each house 
was a pole ten to thirty feet high. Animals 
were carved on the top and sides of the poles, 
sometimes a bird, a bear, or a fox. These totems 
are the signs of a tribe or family — just as we 
have the United States eagle, the English lion, 
the Scotch thistle, or French lily, but they cer- 
tainly do look very funny standing in front of 
all the houses. One totem pole belonged to the 
chief, Fernandeste, and showed the tribe he be- 
longed to among the Stickeen Indians, and the 
carvings gave a short history of his tribe. There 
were groves where the Indians danced together, 
and places where they worked when tanning and 
decorating the skins of animals, and where the 
children practised with bows and arrows., and it 
was all very different from any Indian villages I 
had seen before. 

After we had our lunch at the fort, chairs were 
taken out in front of the stockade and the In- 
dians gathered for a council. Kalemste stepped 
out in front '"of the Indians, while his people 
crouched ready to listen. He told us the story 



of Fernandeste and how he had been invited on 
the steamer where some dreadful white men, 
who were prisoners being taken to Portland, 


Oregon, for selling liquor to the Indians at 
Wrangel. kept the chief and frightened him so 
greatly that he died; and how his people wanted 
a potlash or present, so that the other Indians 
would not call them cowards. I asked what 
would satisfy them and he replied, one hundred 
good blankets, only they must have their dead 

chief back again. Now a good warning had 
come to me before I started, and I was ready 
with permission from Uncle Sam. At a word 
the soldiers went into the stockade and then 
slowly returned bearing the body of Fernandeste 
back to those who loved him, and a hundred 
army blankets for the tribe. A sudden change 
came over the faces of the Indians, and taking 
the body from the soldiers they returned to their 
homes satisfied. 

But Kalemste and a few of the leading men re- 
mained and asked if the chief of the white men 
would stay long enough to let him come early in 
the evening and give us a play. Indeed, we were 
all curious to see an Indian play, and as the cap- 
tain of the ship could wait for us, I said yes. 

In the evening we came together. The star- 
light was very bright and it was all still except 
for the washing of the sea on the shore. 

The Indians came quietly, and without ado 
built a fire on the ground for a big torch to light 
us. The men were dressed fantastically, no two 
alike, and their arms and legs were painted. 
They gave first a dance of joy, which lasted over 
an hour. Then they showed in a rude way with- 
out speaking a word, simply by signs and 
motions, how Fernandeste went to the steamer, 
how he died, the crossing of the bar on the Co- 
lumbia River, how his body was buried and taken 
again from the ground and the return of it by 
the steamer to Wrangel ; then our coming, our 
lunch and the council, but all so plainly shown 
that everybody knew what it meant and clapped 
their hands in applause for this fine acting. 

Then Kalemste begged me to send them a 
teacher. He said the officers and soldiers had 
taught them a little, but they wanted a real 
teacher. I promised, and the evening entertain- 
ment being- over, we went on board our steamer 
and were soon sound asleep while the captain 
and crew watched and took us swiftly northward 
to Sitka. 

When Alaska belonged to Russia they called 
Sitka New Archangel, after a city in Russia, but 
we have called it by the Indian name Sitka. 
There were two bands of Indians here, one un- 
der Sitka Jack, the other under Anahootz. Ana- 
hootz came to see me in a soldier's coat and hat 
with a bright handkerchief about it. My boys 
were much amused at his appearance, but he was 
as dignified as a king, and presented to me a 
number of well-folded sheets of paper on each of 
which was the statement that Anahootz was a 
good Indian, a friend of the white men and the 
Indians, and told the truth. I went to see him in 
his home and he sat on a bench and gave me his 
onlv arm-chair. He told me he had thought 




much and spent many a night wide awake think- 
ing what would be good for the Indians. Now 
he understood. He wanted peace between white 
men and Indians, under a good commander such 
as Major Campbell, the military governor. I 
told him his people seemed poor, but I thought 
if they would make baskets and belts and mocca- 
sins visitors would buy them. This pleased him, 
but he told me that most of all he wanted me to 
promise to send a teacher to them; that if I sent 
a good teacher his Indians would build a house, 
better than his own, for him. Of course I prom- 
ised, and once more we boarded the California 
and started north to the mouth of Chilcat Creek. 

The Chilcat Indians lived much like those at 
Sitka and Wrangel, but they had seen few white 
men. Here we found a stone four or five feet 
long and three feet thick, which the Indians said 
came from the moon. I suppose it was a meteor- 
ite, but the Indians said a great white man had 
asked them to protect and keep it till he came 
again, which they were glad to do. 

Just as we were returning to the steamer we 

met Sitka Jack. He was the most famous chief- 
tain in this region. Now he was in a long canoe 
filled with men, every man having a paddle in his 
hand, and eight or ten on each side. Sitka Jack 
with eagle feathers in his hat and a belt 
crammed full of pistols round his waist sat in 
the stern steering, a small United States flag in 
his hand. He was a very bright man, and after 
a little encouragement we had a good talk to- 
gether. He told me that not many miles inland, 
if you went through Sitka Pass northward, there 
was a good level country where everything would 
grow and where there were very many people. 
This was long ago, but since then many of our 
people have found their way to this great land 
of Alaska and have given riches to the United 
States in gold found in the Klondike and Yukon 
country. Men and women have taken the long 
journey to teach the Indian children, and under 
the shadow of the totem poles now are many 
men and women who were boys and girls when I 
first went to Alaska to tell those Indians that 
Uncle Sam was their friend. 


It was a queer country where the Modocs lived. 
Their land stretched along for sixty-five miles, 
measured on the straight line that separates Ore- 
gon from California, and it was thirty miles wide, 
some in Oregon and some in California. 

In the year 1850 there was a general Indian 
war in Oregon and northern California. The 
white settlers, tradesmen, mechanics, farmers, 
and hunters, and rough men of the frontier, all 
came together led by a wild fellow called Ben 
Wright. Now Wright was not a good man, and 
he planned a surprise and made a dreadful at- 
tack upon forty-six Modoc Indians who were 
quietly sleeping in their tepees. But five of the 
Indians got away, and among them was one 
called Sconchin. He was only seven years old 
then, and almost all his father's family were 

This boy grew up to hate the white people. He 
was a tall, handsome Indian and belonged to a 
band of four hundred Modocs. Their chief was 
called Captain Jack by the white people, though 
his real name was Modicus. This chief was dark 
and brawny, and when he said a thing he would 
not change his mind. He called his tribe by their 
true Indian name, Maklaks (the people), and 
wanted to be known by all white men and Indi- 
ans far and near as "The very great all-time- 
Chieftain." But he and Sconchin did not always 

agree, for Sconchin wanted to be war-chief and 
make war against the white people all the time, 
while Captain Jack liked peace best, though he 
kept a war-bonnet on hand to use if he needed it. 
A war-bonnet, as you know, is like a winter cap 
of red flannel worn well back on the head with a 
mass of eagle and hawk feathers strung to- 
gether and hanging down the back to the waist. 
This is only for war times and Captain Jack 
kept one ready, but usually he wore an old soft 
gray hat with a cord round it, tassels peeping 
over the brim and a single eagle feather to show 
he was chief. He always carried a rifle and two 
pistols tucked in his belt, but he thought peace 
with the white men was best for him and for his 
people. He was a very strong man too, but he 
could not govern his Indians unless he did about 
what Sconchin wanted him to do. 

In the year 1866 Mr. Meacham, superinten- 
dent of Indians for Oregon, sent word north and 
south to all the Indians to come to Fort Klamath 
and have a great talk. A good many Indians 
came and Mr. Meacham thought they really rep- 
resented their tribes, but neither Captain Jack nor 
Sconchin was there. However, there was a 
great bargain, and the Indians agreed to take a. 
small sum of money and go and live on the Kla- 
math Reservation. This was just such a place as 
white people like to go to in the summer, but for 




Indians no place at all. Captain Jack said: "I 
have n't sold our land on Lost River and I won't 
leave it"; and Sconchin said, "Let us fight for- 
ever." But after a while, in 1869, Captain Jack 
said: "To go is better than war." So with three 
hundred men, women, and children moved the fifty 


miles up to the great Klamath Reservation. But 
here something unexpected happened. The Kla- 
math Indians were many more than the Modocs, 
and they were angry that the Modocs had come. 
The women and children quarreled, and the Kla- 
maths sent word to the agent that the Modocs 
were getting ready to go on the war-path. Then 
the agent moved the Modocs two miles away, 
but they had hardly put up their tepees when the 
Vol. XXXV. -79. 

Klamaths, Snakes, and other Oregon Indians, 
began to bother them again. 

At last Captain Jack, to avoid open war, one 
night with all his people, fled back to their 
old home. But here they were not welcome, for 
the white settlers had their land and did not want 
them around. Of course, 
some white people were kind 
and knew the Indians told 
the truth when they said, 
"We have never sold our 
land, we cannot live in Ore- 
gon, we cannot hunt or fish 
on the reservation, nor 
gather lily bulbs, wild onions, 
or camas roots." 

Good Mr. Meacham finally 
agreed to give them a reser- 
vation on the Lost River, 
and Captain Jack said, "We 
will bargain and keep the 
peace." But at Washington 
people were busy doing other 
things, and for a long time 
no word came to say Mr. 
Meacham could give, this 
land to the Modocs. Cap- 
tain Jack's heart was sick 
and Sconchin said: "Mr. 
Meacham is like all white 
men, double-tongued and 
does not tell the truth." 

At last a new Indian agent 
was sent to take Mr. Mea- 
cham's place. He believed 
the white settlers who told 
him that the Indians were 
bad and that they must be 
forced back to the Klamath 
Reservation. So a company 
of soldiers under Captain 
Jackson went to make them 
go. The Indians were living 
in rough tepees or wigwams 
made of poles covered with 
brushwood. Some were on 
the river bank, some on an 
island. Captain Jackson and 
a talk. The Indians did not 
want to go, but their chief said he would rather 
go than have war. Captain Jackson was trying, 
through the half-breed interpreter, to arrange 
the homeward march, when Scar-Faced Charlie, 
one of Sconchin's friends, angry and armed 
with a pistol, came out of his tepee. Captain 
Jackson ordered his immediate arrest by a ser- 
geant, who also had a pistol. The soldier and 

Captain Jack had 



the Indian fired at the same instant; then 
other soldiers and Indians fired. At the 
same time some white men, back on the is- 
land, were shooting into the Indian tepees. Five 
soldiers were killed or wounded and as many In- 
dians fell. Then the Indians, in the confusion, got 
away. They caught up everything and ran south- 
ward, while Captain Jackson, gathering up his 
dead and wounded, made his way sorrowfully 
and slowly back to Fort Klamath. 

The young Indians in their flight went through 
a white settlement and killed eleven white men 
and boys who came in their way, but they spared 
all the women and the smaller children. 

There were wonderful caves on the banks 
of Lost River. To one of these Captain 
Jack led his band. From here he could 
see everything for five miles, and this cave 
led to other caves, so that without being seen he 
could make his way to the water's edge. Cap- 
tain Jack had not more than seventy warriors, 
but they were in that strong place with food 
enough for three months for his men and for all 
of his women and children who were in there. 
Every Indian had a rifle and pistols and consider- 
able ammunition. Against them Colonel Frank 
Wheaton of the army led six hundred soldiers. 
They were confident and ran briskly toward the 
stronghold, but the Indians were ready and beat 
back all the six hundred, having slain thirty-five 
of Wheaton's men and wounded many more. 
Colonel Wheaton was astounded. He drew off 
his soldiers and retreated twenty miles. A little 
later, however, the soldiers returned, bringing 
cannon and mortars. The mortars would throw 
a loaded shell high in air and drop it down into 
Captain Jack's fortress ; lodging in the cracks 
and fissures the fuse would keep burning till the 
shell, like that in blasting rocks, would explode 
and the fragments of iron fly in every direction. 
The Indians at first feared those "guns that fired 
twice every time," but soon they learned how to 
protect themselves. 

Then General Canby and Colonel Wheaton en- 

camped before the cave with an army of soldiers. 
Rev. Mr. Thomas, Mr. Meacham, and some other 
peace-loving friends, tried to bring about a good 
peace. They sent into the stronghold a half-breed 
interpreter and a conference was secured. Captain 
Jack even yet desired a peaceable settlement, but 
he did not like the offers made him of a new res- 
ervation near Lost River to be given him by and 
by after purchases of land could be made, and 
meanwhile for the Modocs to go down to Angel 
Island, near San Francisco, and be provided for. 
Though Captain Jack appeared to favor this 
arrangement, most of his warriors showed an 
ugly disposition, and, stirred up by Sconchin, 
were for war, war! Then Captain Jack, who had 
been planning in his mind a great blow, sent word 
that he and a few of his principal men, five in all, 
would meet General Canby and five of his peace 
men at a place between the lines about a mile 
from the soldiers' camp. At the time appointed 
they met, but- the Indians had pistols hidden in 
their clothing, and after a short talk, when every- 
thing was arranged, Captain Jack cried out : "All 
ready," and they fired. 

The good general and Dr. Thomas fell in- 
stantly killed, and Mr. Meacham was badly 
wounded, but the others escaped, and Captain 
Jack's warriors drove back all the soldiers who 
were near enough for them to reach with their 
rifles ; then they ran back to their stronghold. 
Now more troops came, and little by little Cap- 
tain Jack saw his Indians grow less. The sol- 
diers captured his spring of water and cut his 
people off from the lake till, in desperation, one 
night the Modocs without any warning fled to 
another cave, four miles away. 

Some Warm Spring Indians, friendly to the 
white people, trailed the fleeing Modocs, and 
after many days and great losses among the sol- 
diers the desperate Modocs had so few warriors 
left and were so much in want of food and water 
that a part of them came out, gave themselves up 
and betrayed their leader, Captain Jack. He was 
the last man captured. 

■'; s~ 

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4> :1 


,■■ '1 


ONCE upon a time there was 
a king who owned half of 
the whole world and claimed 
the rest of it. So you may be sure 
that no princess ever had such 
a christening as his only child ; 
but there was not a single fairy 
invited, for, if you will believe 
me, the King was so foolish that 
he said there were no such things 
as fairies in the whole world ! 
It would have been a sorry day for the Princess 
if the fairies had taken him at his word, but they 
knew that she was not to blame for the folly of 
her father, so every last one of them brushed up 
her invisible cloak and carried some gift to the 

But the oldest fairy of all did not wear an in- 
visible cloak, for she considered that there was 

something due to fairy dignity and she came just 
as she happened to be, as an old, old woman in a 
ragged cloak. 

When the King saw her standing beside the 
cradle, he was red with anger. 

"How came this old woman here?" he roared. 

"Your Royal Highness — " began the Lord High 
Chancellor and the Master of Ceremonies and the 
Chief Butler, all at once. 

But the King clapped his hands for the Royal 

"To the dungeons with them all \" he shouted. 

All the while the Queen was plucking his sleeve 
anxiously, for she believed in fairies and she had 
her own ideas about the ragged woman. 

"Your Majesty," she whispered, "let us ask this 
old lady to be godmother to the Princess." 

"Godmother, indeed !" cried the King. "To the 
dungeons with the old woman!" 




But when the soldiers marched up to her, she 
raised her hand and they stopped shorter than if 
the King himself had cried, "Halt!" 

"Listen," she said, smiling at the frightened 
Queen, "since you ask it, my dear, I will be god- 
mother to your baby. But since your royal hus- 
band does not believe in fairies, he cannot object 
if I present the Princess with a heart proud 
enough for all his riches!" 

Then she went away so quickly that no one saw 
her go, and the Guards could find no trace of her, 
although they hunted high and low. 

The King forbade all mention of the matter, 
but the Queen remembered that the old woman 
had smiled, and she took some comfort from that. 

The baby Princess grew older, and each day 
she became more beautiful than the day before. 
You may be sure that she heard enough of her 
beauty from the entire Court, so it is small won- 
der that, when she came to her seventeenth birth- 
day, she was the proudest Princess in the whole 

On her birthday morning she was strolling 
alone in the gardens, when suddenly she was 
aware of an old ragged woman sitting beside a 
rose-bush. You can guess that the Princess was 
surprised, but she was 

fairy, "and you will have to go to the other end 
of the earth and ask the Little Black Dwarf for 
it, if you want it." 

"Indeed I do want it, thank you!" cried the 
Princess, eagerly. For she thought that the Best 
Thing in the World was worth having — and I 
would take it, myself, if I could get it. "I will beg 
my father for a thousand men and start for the 
other end of the earth to-morrow !" 

"You will never reach there with a thousand 
men," said the old lady. "You will have to go 
alone !" 

"Oh," cried the Princess, "my father will never 
let me go alone." 

"Then you will never get the Best Thing in the 
World," said her godmother ; "and now I must be 
going, for I have a great many things to do." 

So she kissed the Proud Princess and stepped 
into the rose-bush, which closed about her like a 
cloak until she had completely disappeared. 

But the very next morning the Princess arose 
before any one was about and set off alone to 
find the Little Black Dwarf and the Best Thing 
in the World. 

Now it had happened that, on the very day 
when the Proud Princess was christened, the 

, : .- ; -i?-'". ■^■f"n,-- V s 


too proud to be afraid, 
so she only said : ^ 

" Good morning, 

mother." "**?"' 

"Good morning, my ;;_;" '■'T ■■}■ ■. 
dear," said the old lady, [M-.i---j 
"I am your fairy god- 
mother ! " ■:;.;'" •■■=" '-':- : :\ 

" I beg your pardon," ; ' 
said the Princess — for '\ , /'.'. 
of course she considered "- , M 
it far beneath her to be '■"-•■ ■'[ 
rude to any one, even to £ 

a ragged woman — " I ,,,^ y *5''^ 
beg your pardon, but my c".-^-- >' 

father, the King, says 
that there are no such 
things as fairies." 

" When your father is 
as old as I am," said the 
fairy, " he will be en- 
titled to his own opinion, 
and not before ! How- 
ever, that is neither here nor there 
to give you a birthday present." 

"You are very kind," murmured the Princess. 

"Not at all," said the godmother ; "but I cannot 
bring my gift to you. You must go and fetch it." 

"What can it be?" asked the Princess, curiously. 

"It is the Best Thing in the World," said the 


I have come 

King of the West gave a party to celebrate the 
first birthday of his son. As luck would have it, 
the Little Black Dwarf happened that way and 
you may be sure that he was glad enough to put a 
stop to the fun. 

"Ho!" he cried, "here 's another guest and an- 
other gift ! May the Prince become so ugly that 




no one can look upon his face without turning 
away in horror !" 

Then he marched out again, cracking his 
thumbs with joy at the mischief he had done. 

The royal nurse gave one look at the little 
Prince in her arms and was so horrified that she 
dropped him on the palace floor, but the Queen 
snatched him up and covered him with kisses, for 
not all the Black Magic in the books can make a 
mother believe that her baby is not the most beau- 
tiful thing in the world ! 

As for the King, he posted off to the Wise-man 
on the hill, as fast as he could travel, and he de- 
serves some credit for that, I can tell you ! 

"Bring me," said the Wise-man, "an old blind 
man, an old blind woman, a little blind boy and a 
walnut. Then fetch the Queen and the Prince, 
and we will see what we can do." 

When the King had done as he was bid, the 
Wise-man led them to a meadow back of the 
palace, and up to the top of a little hill. 

"Now watch." he said, "and you will see some- 
thing !" 

He cracked the walnut and buried the meat in 
the ground, with a pin thrust through the middle. 
Then he placed one half of the shell on the 
very top of the hill and threw the other half 
down into the meadow. 

Hardly had it touched the ground when a 
stream of water rushed from it and began to 
flow around the hill. The hill itself swelled 
into a mountain and the other half of 
the shell became a castle of stone. /-'"v : ■■'■■>: 

As the water rose about the mountain, V, r -- 
the Wise-man bared his arm and gazed ^w*J:'J' 
eagerly at the stream. Suddenly he dashed 
his hand into the water and drew forth the shell. 
At that the stream stopped rising, but the waves 
lashed themselves into such a fury that one could 
not see beyond them for the spray. 

The Wise-man tossed the shell into the water 
again and it became a tiny boat, without oars or 
sail, and before it there stretched a narrow path 
of still water. The King and the Wise-man 
stepped into the boat and it bore them swiftly to 
the foot of the palace gardens. 

But when the King looked back, the path had 
closed behind them and he could see no mountain 
nor castle — nothing but the spray of the waves. 

"Once every week," said the Wise-man, "you 
may cross over to the mountain, but if you do not 
return at dawn or if you bring any one back with 
you, I cannot say what will happen !" 

Then he went back to his books, for he had 
done all that he could and no man, however wise 
he may be, can do more than that. 

As for the little Prince, he grew up without 

ever knowing how ugly he was, for there was 
not a single mirror on the mountain and his 
mother and the blind people thought him the 
most beautiful Prince in the whole world. 

As he grew, a tree sprang from the meat of 
the walnut, and grew with him, but through the 
trunk was thrust a sword where the pin had been. 

':■ '„■;; 

■■•; ■%, '".-- 


-■■',-■■ '- 


And although the Prince was always trying, he 
could never draw it forth. 

On his nineteenth birthday he went to the tree 
and laid his hand on the handle of the sword, as 
he was used to do. As he strained at it, the steel 
loosened and flashed into the air with a noise like 
a clap of thunder. 

As the Prince gazed, wondering, at the bright 
blade, he thought he saw a strange horrible face 
staring over his shoulder. But when he turned, 
there was no one there and he knew that he had 
seen his own reflection ! 

His cry of sorrow brought them all running to 
him, and it was high time, for the walnut tree 




was cleft through where the sword had been, 
and, as it crashed to the ground, a great whirl- 
wind arose, rocking the mountain back and forth. 

Then suddenly there was no mountain, no cas- 
tle and no water — only a little hill in a meadow, 
and five frightened people clustering about a 
shining sword and a broken walnut shell. 

As they walked toward the palace, a little girl 
came toward them, laughing, but when she saw 
the Prince, she shrieked and fled away. 

Then the Prince turned to his mother with 
tearful eyes and said : 

"Mother, why am I so ugly that the little girl 
runs from me ?" 

The Queen took him in her arms and wept 
with him. 

"My dearest," she said, "the Little Black Dwarf 
has bewitched you, but to me you are the fairest 
Prince in all the world !" 

The Prince thrust the bright sword into the 
scabbard and turned sadly away. 

"Farewell, mother dear," he said, "for I must 
travel about the world until I find this Little 
Black Dwarf and have a word with him." 

So he kissed her tenderly and went away, leav- 
ing her weeping in the arms of the old blind 

After a while he traveled only at night, unless 
he was in the thick woods, for every one fled 
from him and his eyes were always full of tears. 

And finally he came to Fairyland, for every 
Prince must reach there, sooner or later, be he 
ever so ugly. As he walked sorrowfully through 
the forest he came upon an old, old woman who 
was spinning threads of sunlight upon a fairy 

The Prince would have turned away lest he 
should frighten her, but he had never seen so 
bright a thread, so he held his hands over his face 
and stared at her through his fingers. 

At last the old woman said : 

"Don't you think that it is very rude to stand 
with your hands before your face?" 

"I beg your pardon," said the Prince, "but I 
am so ugly that you would be frightened if you 
should see me." 

The old lady laughed softly. "My dear," she 
said, "I have more years than there are strands 
upon my wheel, but I have never yet been afraid 
of an ugly face. If your heart were ugly I should 
be sorry, but I can very easily see that it is not." 

The Prince wondered how she could see him, 
for she never turned her head nor stopped her 

"Do you know what I have made for you?" 
asked the fairy, quietly. 

"No," said the Prince. 

"It is a gift that I have been working at, off 
and on, ever since your first birthday, and I fin- 
ished it but yesterday." 

As she spoke she took a piece of cloth from her 
girdle and the Prince saw that it was a golden 

The old lady turned and looked into the eyes of 
the Ugly Prince, and then she smiled so tenderly 
that he thought of his mother, the Queen, for no 
one else had ever smiled upon him with seeing 

"Wear this," she said, "for two years and a 
day, without ever taking it off, and remember that 
a gentle heart is better than a handsome face." 

Then she walked away so swiftly that you could 
not see her feet touch the ground and was out of 
sight in an instant. 

But the Ugly Prince snapped the mask on his 
face and strode away with a lighter heart than he 
had borne since he left the mountain in the 

He had not gone far before he saw a ragged 
girl sleeping beneath a tree. As he bent over her, 
he thought she was more beautiful than anything 
else in the world, and that might very well be, for 
she was none other than the Proud Princess, who 
had been searching for the other end of the earth, 
this long while. 

For all her rags, she was as proud as ever, for 
when she awoke to find the Ugly Prince in his 
golden mask, leaning over her, she was not at all 

"If you are a robber," she said, "you need not 
trouble me, for I have nothing that is worth steal- 

"I am no robber," said the Prince, sorrowfully, 
"but I am so ugly that you would turn away in 
horror if it were not for my mask !" 

"I am very sorry," said the Princess, gently. 
And indeed she was, for she was so proud of her 
own beauty that she could not bear to think of 
any one else being ugly. 

"You are very kind," said the Prince. "But 
what are you doing all alone in the woods? Are 
you not afraid?" 

"No," said the Princess, "no one will harm me." 

And she told the Prince all about her god- 
mother and the Best Thing in the World. 

"I, too, am looking for the Little Black Dwarf," 
said the Prince, "and if you will allow me, I will 
be your servant and go with you, since my mask 
hides my ugliness." 

Now you may readily believe that the Princess 
was glad enough of company, so they set out to- 
gether for the other end of the earth. 

Sometimes they would encounter dangers on 
the road and then the Prince would stride ahead 




with his shining sword, while the Princess 
watched him anxiously. For she was so proud 
that she could not bear to think of any harm com- 
ing to him for her sake. 

Often, in the night, she would hear the Prince 
moaning to himself and she knew that he was 
sorrowing for his ugliness. Then the tears would 
come into her eyes, for she wished all who served 
her to be happy. 

The Little Black Dwarf met them at the gate, 
and he was just as glad to see them as if they had 
been his worst enemy. 

But the Proud Princess said boldly : 

" I have come 
World, which 

."-. it 



' ^ ' 

m ■■ 

% ..;■ ttflf #s| 

-■ w< 

"Jij. ?S;S-?^ T; isj' 


'^iWcs-Vj^v--;; ;j.. 




So they traveled for a whole year, until they 
came to the Last Mountain at the other end of 
the earth and at the top they saw a great castle 
of stone with high towers and glittering spires. 

for the Best Thing in the 
my godmother gave me. 

Where is it, 
l''\ please ? " 

The Little 

Black Dwarf 

:: ; .',' /;'% looked from 

I:.--.'" . .■" \A her to the 

' ."' •:•>'. -. . ':' Prince in his 

■■'[;/ ;-: . :•'■'' ; ■«'<. > \i'.ii golden mask 

''" ':'.: v \. . ■ - and then from 

■"" _ r '' the Prince to the 

•r : '''- Princess again, and 

'•*„...■■,,. , -: ' laughed until his sides 

. •' . ' ' 4; w_ ' were sore. 

Very well, my dear, he 

said ; " but what will you be 

■'Iff^f giving me if I let you have it?" 

■,rS " I have nothing at all with me," said the 

Princess, proudly, "but my father owns half 

of the whole world and he will pay you well ! " 

"But that will not do at all," said the Little 

Black Dwarf. "You must wait in this castle for 

a year and a day and give me your servant in the 

golden mask forever!" 

Then the Princess would have turned sorrow- 
fully away, but all this time the Ugly Prince had 
been waiting for her to finish with the Dwarf so 
that he could have a word with him. When he 
saw her sorrow he stepped forward. 

"For," he thought, "I am so ugly that it does 
not matter and she will have the Best Thing in 
the World, which is joy enough for me." 

So he whispered to her, "Agree with him, and 
it will be a strange thing if I do not trick him 
before the time is up !" 

The Proud Princess tried to look at his face, 
but she could not see through the golden mask, so 
she said : 

"Very well. Let it be as you say." 
So for a year and a day the Proud Princess 
waited in the castle, and all the while she was 
wondering what the Best Thing in the World 
would be. 

Finally the time was up and she went to the 
Little Black Dwarf. 

"Where is the Best Thing in the World?" she 
said. "I have waited for a year and a day." 

"Yes, yes," said the Little Black Dwarf. "Just 
step up to the garret and pick it out." 

So the Proud Princess went up to the top of 
the castle, and I would like to have been with her, 
I can tell you ! For there was a cloak woven out 



of sunlight, that made its wearer more beautiful 
than the day, and a sword forged out of lightning 
which would light the whole world on the darkest 
night, and a little brass man who could sing any 
song in the world so sweetly that every one for- 
got his troubles, and a thousand other things, 
each more wonderful than 
the last. .... . 

But the Proud Princess -% -' 77 ''■'■[,. ,fj- ••■ 
went from one to the other r^/\. : -' r- '■■;;- _.J 

and she could not decide ./fl£ s 

which was the Best Thing in ^Z fj * 

the World. So at last she 
went back to the Little Black 

'"Ho!" he cried, "what 
did you choose ? " 

" I have taken nothing yet," 
said the Princess; "but I 
would like to see my servant 
in the golden mask." 

Then the Little Black Dwarf 
hopped up and down on one 
foot with rage. 

"You cannot see him!" 
he shrieked. "He is mine! 
Choose something else !" 

The Proud Princess thought 
of how he had served her 
without hope of reward and of 
how brightly his sword had 
flashed when there were dan- 
gers in the road ; but most especially she remem- 
bered how he had sorrowed at night for his ugliness. 

"I choose my servant!" she said, and the Little 
Black Dwarf was mad with rage. 

But a bargain is a bargain, so the Proud Prin- 
cess took the Ugly Prince by the hand and to- 
gether they took their way out upon the Last 

"What have you done?" asked the Ugly Prince 
sadly. "Why have you chosen me instead of the 
Best Thing in the World?" 

"I am not sure," said the Princess, timidly, 
"but I think it is because I love you!" 

Then the Ugly Prince gave a great sob. 

"But, you know, you have never seen my 
face !" he said. 

"It can make no difference," said the Princess, 
happily. "Take off your mask !" 

"I cannot," muttered the Prince. "You would 
turn away in horror and would never look at 


tpiy jiffc 


SB ' ! 

* ^VV 


why!' she said, wondehingly, 'you are the most beautiful 
prince in the whole world.'" 

me again and then I think I would die!" 

"Trust me," said the Princess. 

Then the Ugly Prince fell on his knees before 
her and bowed his head. 

But the Proud Princess walked over to him, 
put her arms around his neck and unclasped the 
golden mask. 

"Why," she said wonderingly, as she kissed 
him, "you are the most beautiful Prince in the 
whole world !" 

And that is the end of the story, for there is no 
Prince so ugly that he cannot find a Princess to 
love him, and without a little proper pride one 
can never gain the Best Thing in the World. 


Happychapter V 

'OU may have forgotten 
by this time, perhaps, 
How the old first fami- 
lies of Happychaps 
One morning 

At the woodchop- 
per's stroke 
Of his ax on the old 

Centennial Oak. 
Now, of course, these 
Happychaps took the 

In planning a 
town ; 
And they did it up brown, 
For they were industrious people indeed, 
And industrious people succeed. 

They planned for a village of ample extent, 
With houses to sell and houses to rent ; 

With a splendid town hall ; 

A park and a mall; 

And avenues wide, 

With trees on each side ; 
Public gardens and fountains and all. 
Old General Happychap nobly presided 
At a meeting where it was proposed and decided 

To begin right away, 

The very next day, 
Or as soon as the means were provided. 
No secret was made of this excellent plan, 
And no sooner was it decided on, than 
The Happychap guests of foreign nativities 
(Who came, as you know, for Reunion festiv- 
Took a quick rising vote. The result was unani- 
(Except for one Choctaw, a bit pusillanimous), 

From the brave Esquimau, 

Who lives in the snow, 

To the fierce Hottentot, 

Who lives where it 's hot; 
Vol. XXXV.— 80. 6 33 

From climes where they melt or climes where 

they freeze, 

And the lands between these, 
And islands in seas, 
The visiting Happychaps rose as one man, 
And said, "Include us in your excellent plan ! 
We '11 throw in our fortunes with yours, if we 

And in Jollipopolis gladly we '11 stay. 
No more we '11 return 
Where we shiver or burn, 
But here, in this pleasant and temperate land, 
We '11 rally forever, The Happychap Band!" 
'You 're welcome," said General Happychap, 

'I '11 gladly include you with my merry men ; 
And shoulder to shoulder we '11 loyally stand, 
United forever, The Happychap Band !" 
Well, that was all right. Then next, if you 

The Skiddoodles desired to be added to these. 
"Come on !" cried the General, "Come on, of 

We 're delighted to have you our ranks reinforce. 
And now, with such splendidly capable aid, 
We '11 make such a city as never was made." 
Well, of course, after this, a mass-meeting was 






And those who were timid felt somewhat ap- 
At the great undertaking which they had begun, 


But the more daring Happychaps thought it was 

The meeting proceeded, 
And every one heeded 
The General's able and masterly speech, 
Which was greatly admired and applauded by 

"We '11 build us a city," at last he proclaimed, 
"And, of course, Jollipopolis it must be named. 
Now just as a starter, 
I '11 draw up a charter, 
And we '11 have it engrossed and then framed." 

Then next there arose what they call mooted 
questions ; 

If a question is mooted 
It 's hard to get suited, 
So of course there were many suggestions. 
"What style shall the dwellings be ?" led to some 
For each had his own deeply-rooted conviction. 
Big Chief Dewdrop arose in his blanket and 

And said, "I contend that in all sorts of weathers 
There 's nothing so durable, warm, and artistic, 
As a wigwam made gay with designs cabalistic. 
And it seems, sir, to me 
That our dwellings should be 
All Indian wigwams. I trust you '11 agree." 
He sat down ; and there rose a loud howl of dis- 

And from one to another a low murmur went. 
Then a Greenlander Happychap stood up and 

"That idea is absurd! Try 
this one instead : 
For building material noth- 
ing 's so nice 
As huge cubic blocks of crys- 
tal-clear ice. 
And small, one-roomed huts 

constructed of these, 
Are cheap, quickly built, and 
certain to please." 

He smiled like a man 
Who is sure that his plan 
Is the very best one that was 

ever devised, 
And when no one applauded, 
he looked quite surprised. 
After him, old Professor Happychap rose, 
And, adjusting his glasses astride of his nose, 
Said, "The shape, size, or style, that the dwellings 

may be 
Is not of the slightest importance to me. 
But let each upper story 
Be an observatory, 
And in each house a well-furnished laboratory." 

1j^ r r : i *jf £ a t> y 








"Oh, ho !" said old Raggledy Happychap then, 
"That 's all very well for scholarly men ; 

For myself, I don't see 

Why houses should be ! 
I live on the road, that 's the dwelling for me." 


'Mah gracious!" exclaimed 'Rastus Happychap, 

Would n't know what to do in a house large or 

high ! 
But little, low cabins, with vines growin' round, 
Would suit everybody the best, I '11 be bound." 
Said Paddy O'Happychap, "Yes, if they 're big 
Enough to accommodate me and my pig!" 
A Fiji said, timidly, "Palms are good thatching, 
But such roofs require a great deal of patching." 
Said a Jap 
"There 's nothing so good 
As bamboo wood, — " 


But Rah Rah Happychap said, "Pooh, Pooh! 
Don't let that fellow bamboozle you 
Into building houses of split bamboo, 
With paper sides 
Like lantern slides, 
And a Japanese fan or two ! 
For my part, I think it would be great 
To have a big campus up to date ; 
With a tennis-court and a base-ball ground, 
And tents to sleep in all around." 
"Shiver my timbers ! if I like that," 
Cried old Skipper Happychap, jolly and fat, 
"But it seems to me 
That on the sea 
A floating city 
there could be. 
Each one could 
have a yacht or 
a barge, 
A dory small, or a 
steamer large, 
While the 
sun is out, 
Then anchor 

at night 
'Neath the 
pale light, 
Hurrah, for a life 
so free and 
brave ! 


A life on the rolling ocean 


"Naw!" said Happychap 

Messenger, "I ain't in it! 

I could n't work that job a 

minute ! 
I have ter live where the land 

is fenced 
So I '11 have sumpin to lean 
"Yes, when you stop to take 
a nap !" 
Chuckled old Raggledy 

Said Halfred 'Appychap, 
"Big hotels 

Are the proper thing for us 
English swells. 

I want on me bags 
Some more labels and 
(Then Rah Rah gave one of 
his yells !) 





'Ho!" cried 
Toots Hap- 
pychap, "lis- 
ten to me ! 
I '11 tell you 
just what 
our proceed- 
ings should 
Let 's build a 
big garage, 
And we '11 all keep our 
motor-cars there without 
charge ! 
We '11 build it right straight 
in the middle of town — " 
old mr. hoots gives "No !" Hoppergrass thun- 
advice. dered, with terrible frown, 

"I 've trouble enough with things in my way, 
Without jumping automobiles every day!" 
And poor Percy Porcupine put in his word, 
"I 'd puncture the tires whenever I stirred!" 
The Skiddoodles began 
To think of a plan ; 
The birds said a village of fine hanging nests 

Would triumphantly pass all requirements and 

Suspended from trees, 
iSfc They 'd swing in the breeze, 


And accommodate plenty of guests. 
Then old Mr. Hoots, with a blink and a scowl, 
Said, "Take the advice of a wise old owl; 
Let each one live in a hollow tree — " 
Said Timothy Terrapin, "Not for me! 
I think the whole of the city oughter 


l| * « « i s ■ t L»» 





( Be carefully built beneath the water." 
"So do we," said the frogs and the water-wag- 
"Not so ! not so !" cried the glum old snails, 
"Convenience and comfort you 're sure to lack 
Unless you carry your house on your back." 
Said the ants, "Small pyramids of sand 
Make dwellings that are simply grand!" 
Said the spiders, "Webs of enormous size 
Are good to live in and fine for flies !" 
Then the chatter grew loud and the arguments 
strong ; 

Each thought he was right and the others were 

When General Happychap cried, "Hear ! Hear I 
We '11 never agree on this I fear. 

So I '11 tell you 

What we '11 have to do 
To make our progress clear." 
Then General Happychap, clever old man ! 
Suggested a most satisfactory plan ; 

And each Happychappy 

Was perfectly happy ; 
And all the Skiddoodles were happy as well. 



But the tale of this project I really can't tell 
Until the next time 
We take up this rhyme, 
And then you shall learn what befell. 


(A little child' s answer to the question, " Do you believe in fairies?") 


No, I don't believe in fairies, but I watch close when I pass 
Through the woods and all the meadows and the flowers and the grass. 
For. if there should be fairies (and the old folks may not know, 
And it seems as if there must be) I should love to see one so! 
And I don't believe in pirates — only sometimes in the night, 
When the house seems strange and silent, and there is n't any light, 
I creep down in the bedclothes and I feel a sort of thrill — ■ 
For grown folks might be mistaken and there may be pirates still. 



Raiivy-I>ay-A.mxiseme2\ts iitthe Nxtrseiry- 



The foundations of most of the pies are the 
same. First you must have a large, round, tin 
pan, about three inches deep ; then a number of 
sheets of white and colored tissue-paper. Cut 
several strips of the white paper five inches wide 
and as long as the width of the tissue-paper 
sheet. Paste one edge of the paper inside the 

as you like. For the May-pole Pie cut strips of 
apple-green tissue-paper, three and a half inches 
wide into fringe, and paste the top edge of the 
fringe just inside the top edge of the pan, 
allowing the fringe to hang down on the out- 
side. Then cut strips of olive-green paper, four 
and a half inches wide, fold each strip and 
cut into a fringe of leaves. (A and B, Fig. 3.) 
The leaves should be almost two inches wide at 


edge of the pan, draw the paper down on the out- 
side, plait it to fit around the bottom, and paste 
the other edge on the underside of the pan. (Fig. 
2.) After this you may trim the sides of the pan 

the top. Crimp the leaves on a knife blade (B, 
Fig 3), or through the center on a hat-pin, and 
adjust them round the pan, over the fringe, past' 
ing the top edge inside the pan. Now cut a piece 

6 39 




of white wrapping-paper, such as the druggists 
use, to fit the top of the pan for the crust of the 
pie. About one inch from the edge of the crust, 
at regular intervals, cut as many triangular slits, 
one and a half inches long, as you have presents 
to fill the pie. (Fig. 4.) Also make two slits ex- 
actly in the center of the crust, three quarters of 
an inch long, one slit crossing the other at the 

wide, and a strip of bright red tissue-paper, half 
an inch wide. Paste the red paper on the white 
so that the edge of the red will extend almost one 
quarter of an inch beyond the edge of the white. 
(Fig. 6.) Then, beginning at one corner of the 
white strip, with the whole width of the red 
strip toward you (Fig. 6), twist the paper into a 
lighter which should be about nineteen inches 


middle. (Fig. 4.) From tan-colored tissue-paper 
cut a circle one inch larger all around than the 
top of the pan and cut the edge of this into 
fringe four inches deep (Fig. 5), then crimp the 
fringe as you did the green leaves on a knife 
blade. From pale green tissue-^aper cut another 
circle, a trifle smaller than the tan, fringing the 
edge and crimping the fringe in the same way. 
In the center of the green circle cut two slits 
as in the center of the white paper crust. 

Now cut out the middle of the tan circle, ac- 
cording to the dotted line in Figure 5, leaving a 
ring of fringe with a plain heading one inch 
wide. Lay this ring of tan fringe on the white 
crust with the edges of the fringe extending 
evenly over the edge of the crust, then paste the 
top edge, or heading, down on the crust, leaving 
the fringe loose. On top of all this place the 
green fringed circle so that the slits in the center 
will fit exactly over the slits in the center of the 
white crust. Paste at the center of the circle and 
at the top of the fringe. 

Before putting the crust on the pie you must 
make and erect the May-pole. Cut a long strip 
of white wrapping-paper, one and a half inches 

long when finished. This is the May-pole shown 
in Figure 1, page 641, which is striped spirally 
with red in the real May-pole fashion. 

Find a large empty spool and force the large 
end of the May-pole into the hole in the middle, 
then stand it directly in the center inside the pan 
and paste the bottom of the spool to the pan. 
See that the pole is perfectly erect and firmly 
fixed in the spool, then place the little wrapped- 
up gifts in the pan close to the sides. Spread 
paste around the slits in the center of the crust 
on the underside and all around the edge. Slide 
the crust part way down over the pole, the pole 
passing between the slits in the middle of the 
crust, then slip the ribbons attached to the par- 
cels through the triangular holes in the crust and 
press the crust down on the edges of the pan and 
around the base of the pole until it sticks fast. 
The triangular laps should be lifted up to allow 
the ribbons to pass through and then gently 
pressed down, but not below the surface of the 
crust. Have the ribbons from one half to three 
quarters of a yard in length. 

For the wreath that encircles the pole near the 
top, cut a strip of writing-paper, nine inches long 




and half an inch wide. Form this into a hoop. 
Lap the ends and paste them together. Cut a 
strip of green tissue-paper, half an inch wide, 
and wrap the hoop until it is entirely covered. 
(Fig. 7.) Now cut another strip of bright green 
paper, nine inches long and one and a half inches 
wide, fold this and cut the edges into little leaves. 
(Fig. 8.) Make a number of different colored 
flowers from one-inch circles of tissue-paper. 
Scallop the edges and pinch the center to bring 
the flowers into shape. (C and D, Fig. 9.) Paste 
the strip of green leaves around the outside of 
the hoop and close together, over the green, paste 
the bright flowers. Suspend the wreath from the 
pole with four narrow strips of deep orange- 
colored paper, making the strips about three 
inches long. Paste one end of each strip to the 
inside of the wreath at equal distances apart, and 
the other ends to the pole two and a half inches 
from the top. Cut two pennants of orange paper 
and paste just below the tip of the pole, then 

SEE PAGE 639.) 

crown the whole with a bouquet made in a circle 
of green leaves. Make the leaves like Figure 10 
from a circle two inches in diameter. Paste the 
bouquet on the tip of the pole. Cut very narrow 
strips of different colored tissue-paper, ten 
inches long, for the ribbons. Paste one end of 
each ribbon to the inside of the wreath, spacing 
Vol. XXXV. -81-82. 

them equally, and allow the ribbons to hang 
loosely down. 

Figure 1 1 shows the front and back of the pa- 
per dolls which are all cut five inches high, ex- 
actly alike, of light-weight cardboard. The dolls 
should number the birthday of the child, one for 
•each year, just as birthday candles do. Draw 
the features, the hair, the top of the socks, or 
half hose, and the slippers, both front and back 
(Fig. 11); then paint the face, neck, arms and 
little legs above the socks flesh-color. Paint the 
features and vary the color of the eyes and hair. 

Cut each skirt in a circle about three and a 
quarter inches in diameter with a hole in the 
middle large enough to fit the doll's waist, and a 
slit from, top to bottom at the back. Make all 
the waists like Figure 12, and put the waists on 
the dolls first, the skirts afterward. Paste the 
waist to the doll's back and the skirt to the waist 
front and back. Close the slit in the skirt and 
paste that also. The skirts look prettier if they 
are cut in little points around the bottom. The 
trimming you can vary to suit yourself, but dress 
each doll in a different color with a stand-up bow 
on her head to match her dress. When all the 
dolls are dressed bend back the flaps at their 
feet, arrange them in a circle on the pie, around 
the May-pole, each one opposite a ribbon. Bend 
one knee a little back of the other to give the 
appearance of stepping forward, then paste the 
flaps to the crust and the dolls will stand upright. 
Paste a ribbon to each uplifted hand and they 
will be ready for the dance. Be sure the lifted 
hands are all toward the center of the pie, other- 
wise they cannot hold the ribbons. 


An entirely different design is the Orange-Tree 
Pie (Fig. 13), which, after all, is hardly a pie, 
for the gifts are all on the outside, concealed in 
the oranges placed around the tree. Figure 14 
shows how realistic the little orange-tree is with 
its snowy blossoms and glowing yellow fruit. 

Use a small tree branch about fifteen inches 
high, with plenty of twigs attached, for the 
frame or skeleton of the tree. Stand the branch 
upright in a small flower-pot and pack it in with 
narrow strips of green tissue-paper to represent 
moss. (Fig. 14.) Make a number of different 
sized leaves of olive- and apple-green tissue- 
paper. Cut the leaves like A, Figure 3, but nar- 
row them more at the base ; then crimp them on 
a hat-pin, as in Figure 15. Paste the leaves to 
the twigs by covering the base of each leaf with 
paste and wrapping it around the twig. Make 
the orange flowers of two-inch circles of white 
tissue-paper. Cut the edges into five or six deep 




pointed scallops, and pinch together at the cen- 
ter. Put paste on the points of the flowers and 
stick them to the twigs singly and in clusters. 

For the small oranges cut several five-inch cir- 
cles of orange tissue-paper. Make small round 
balls of raw cotton, place each ball in the middle 
of an orange circle, and draw the edges together 
at the top, keeping the paper as smooth as possi- 
ble over the ball. Wrap and tie at the top with 
thread, as in Figure 16, then tie each orange to a 
twig and cover the joint with a green leaf. 

Make as many large oranges as you have gifts, 
wrap each gift in tissue-paper, put it in a ball of 
raw cotton, cover the ball with orange paper, 
just as you did the small ones, and tie a narrow 
deep orange ribbon where the paper is drawn to- 
gether, leaving the long end free. Cover the 
sides of the pan as for the May-pole Pie, make a 
crust without any holes and trim around the edge 
with olive-green leaves crimped on a hat-pin. Al- 
low these leaves to drop far over the edge, then 
paste a row of apple-green leaves just above them 
and, lastly, a row of the olive-green leaves. Lay 
the crust over the pan, without pasting it to the 
edge, and set the little orange-tree in the middle. 

hollow with the large oranges, bringing the 
bons out over the edge of the pie, as in Fig 
13. The pie in the photograph stands on the 


SEE PAGE 640.) 

Of course the crust will sink down with the 
weight of the tree and leave a hollow between the 
flower-pot and the edge of the pie. Fill in the 


of a deep dish, but, to prevent accidents when the 
children pull the ribbons, it is best to place it di- 
rectly on the table. 


A Horn of Plenty is shown in Figure 17, and 
with its colored paper fruit resting on a bed of 
green leaves it is exceedingly pretty and most at- 
tractive. Make the bed of leaves first that it 
may be ready for the Horn of Plenty when that 
is finished. From the top of an old pasteboard 
box cut a circular disk seventeen inches in diam- 
eter. Make a number of apple-green leaves, 
five inches long, and crimp them on a hat-pin. 
Paste the leaves around the edge of the disk, al- 
lowing them to extend their entire length beyond 
the pasteboard. Above the apple-green leaves 
paste a row of bright green leaves, and above 
these a row of olive-green leaves. Then for the 
center make a circle of bright green paper with 
its edge cut in leaf shaped points, and crimp 
the points as you did the leaves. 

The patterns for the Horn of Plenty are given 
in Figures 18 and 19. Cut a piece of smooth 
manila wrapping-paper, seventeen inches long 
and eleven and a half inches wide. On this pa- 



per draw the side of the horn, as in Figure 18. 
Cut this side out and make another exactly like 
it. Slash the top and bottom edge of one side- 
piece, as in Figure 18, and only the bottom edge 
of the other side-piece. Make the slashes half 
an inch deep. 

Cut the bottom of the horn the shape of Fig- 
ure 19, making it twenty-three inches long and 
six and a half inches wide at the widest end. 
The small end should be three quarters of an 
inch wide. From the unslashed top edge of one 
of the side-pieces cut a strip half an inch wide 
its entire length. Fit the two side-pieces to- 
gether and the slashed top edge of one piece will 
extend half an inch above the unslashed top edge 
of the other piece. Turn the slashed edge down 
over the top edge of the other side-piece and 
paste it down securely ; then turn over the 
slashed bottom edges of both side-pieces and 
paste on the edges of the bottom piece. (Fig. 20.) 
To make the spiral whorl of the horn, cut long 
strips of white tissue-paper six inches wide, 
paste the strips together at the ends and twist 
into a rather loose rope. Paste one end of 
the paper rope to the top angle of the horn 
and bring it entirely around the edge, put- 
ting a drop of paste here and there to hold it in 
place. Then wrap the rope spirally around the 
horn all the way to the tip, leaving one inch 
spaces between the wrappings on the bottom and 
bringing them almost together at the top. Dec- 

fruit as nearly as possible like the real apple, 
pear, or whatever you intend it to represent. 
Wrap the cotton balls with string wherever it is 
necessary to hold it in shape. Figure 21 shows 
how a pear is modeled of the cotton and wrapped 
with string. Use bright yellow tissue-paper for 
the outside of the pear. Cut it like Figure 22, 
set the cotton pear in the middle and bring the 
paper up over it as smoothly as possible, pasting 
where necessary. Wrap a short, slender stick 
with brown tissue-paper for the stem, and 
sharpen it at one end. Make an apple-green leaf 
and paste it to the stem (Fig. 23), then push the 
sharp end of the stem down into the stem end of 
the pear. (Fig. 24.) Make the peach (Fig. 24), 
of two shades of pink tissue-paper pasted to- 
gether to form a square. Cut the square into a 
circle and cover the ball for the peach, pasting 
the edges down instead of tying them, as for the 
oranges. Tie a string tightly around the outside 
of the peach directly on the line where the two 
papers are joined. This makes the cleft seen in 
so many peaches. Give the peach a green stem 
and two bright green leaves. 

Cover the plum (Fig. 24) with purple paper, 
let the stem be brown and its leaf a bright green. 
Figure 25 shows an apple with its leaf and an 
orange without a leaf. Though they look much 
alike in the photograph they are very unlike in 
reality, for the orange is the color of the real 
fruit, and the apple a deep red. To the stem of 




orate the tip of the horn with a bunch of leaves 
of different shades of green. 

When the horn is finished paste it on its bed 
of leaves with the open edge about four inches 
from the edge of the pasteboard disk. Every- 
thing is now ready for the fruit. You may have 
oranges, apples, pears, plums, lemons, bananas, 
and even little melons if you wish, but choose the 
fruit that will give the greatest variety of color. 

Wrap the little gifts in tissue-paper, then 
around them mold the raw cotton, shaping the 

each piece of fruit attach a narrow ribbon the 
color of that particular fruit, yellow on the pear, 
purple on the plum, and so on, then pile it all in 
picturesque confusion as if tumbling out of the 
Horn of Plenty. The ribbons must hang down on 
the outside. If you want the horn raised from 
the table, as in Figure 17, cover a quart can 
with a dark green paper and paste the pasteboard 
disk on top of it before arranging the fruit. The 
children will delight in tearing the fruit open to 
find the hidden gifts. 






The next morning the little Cub Bear wakened very 
early and as soon as he had rubbed his eyes, he won- 
dered if any of the animals would come that day. He 
listened, and he listened, and he listened. 

Pretty soon he heard something coming up the path, 
and little Cub Bear rushed to the mouth of the den to 
see what it was, and he said, "I see a very strange 
animal coming up the path. It has the most beautiful 
fur I ever saw in my whole life,, ever so much finer than 
bear's fur, and the animal looks something like Mr. 
Badger, only its fur is all one color, and it has the fun- 
niest tail, almost as big as a shovel, flat and broad." 
Just then the owl saw the animal and said, "Who-o? who-o-o?" But the animal 
did n't answer at all, except that he gave two slaps with his broad flat tail on 
the ground, slap, slap, and the Circus Bear said, "I know who that is. That is 
Mr. Beaver. Ask him to come in." 

Mr. Beaver came to the door, and the little Cub Bear said very politely, 
"Come in, Mr. Beaver." The Beaver came in and the little Cub Bear said, "We 
are going to try and build a house big enough for all the animals, so if they come 
to see us, we will have a place for them to stay. Can you help us?" And the 
beaver said, "I will be very glad to, because your brother was very good to me 
when we were in the circus." 

The little Cub Bear said, "What can you do?" And the beaver said, "I can 
build dams across streams so as to make beautiful lakes, such as they have in 
parks, and I can build a nice, round house in the lake to live in and large enough for 
a little bear to live in, if he can only get inside without getting wet." And the 
Cub Bear said, "That would be fine, because we could have a park for the animals 
to play in, and some of the animals would rather live in the water anyway, than 
live in the cave." So the beaver said, "All right, I will make you a dam and a 
beautiful lake." So the)- all went down to the stream and the beaver went up 
to a tree, and he commenced to bite it. He bit and he bit and he bit, and the 
chips just flew, and he bit and he bit and he bit, and the chips just flew, and the 
first thing they knew the tree fell over. Then he went to another tree, not a 
very large tree, only about so thick (three inches). Then he went to an- 
other tree, and he bit and he bit and he bit, and the first thing they knew 




that tree fell over. So he kept on and on until he had cut down a great many 
trees, so that they fell Into the water or across the stream, and he put in leaves 
and the water commenced to rise higher and higher, and the beaver kept piling 


in the big logs, and soon he had a high dam clear across the stream. The next 
morning when they looked, the water had filled up above the clam and made 
a beautiful lake. Soon the beaver went to work, and made a house out of mud. 
He used his fore feet as if they were hands, walking on his hind feet, and he used 
his flat tail to make a beautiful mud house, big enough to live in himself, and 
big enough for little Cub Bear to get in, if he 
could only get in without getting wet. And 
the little Cub Bear said, "Thank you," very 
politely. And then he said, "I am very glad my 
brother was good to Mr. Beaver in the circus." 

As soon as they had seen the dam built by 
the beaver, all of the animals began to work 
again as hard as they could work to make the 
cave larger, because it was too small for the 
animals that were already there, and the ele- 
phant could not get in at all. 

The next morning the beaver and the owl and the monkey were talking 
together, and the beaver said, "I am going down to live in that beautiful mud 
house that I made yesterday in the lake. The house has several rooms inside, 




and the door is under the water. I can swim out there, and then dive under the 
water and come up inside the house. No one could find me, in there. When I 
am swimming around in the lake or working on the dam, if I see any one com- 
ing, I will jump into the water and hit the water two great slaps with my tail." 
And the monkey said, "Yes, I know how that sounds. That sounds just like a gun." 
-. The owl said as soon as he saw any one coming he would say, " Who-o-o? Who- 
o-o-oo?" So the beaver went down to the dam to work, and the monkey went 
out to see if he could find any of the animals, and the old owl flew up into the 
tree and sat out on the end of a dead limb and waited. 



EFORE very long, the little Cub Bear heard: "Bang! Bang!" He 
knew the beaver had seen some animal coming and had 
struck the water with his tail, so he ran to the mouth of the 
cave to see what it was. Soon he heard a rustling noise 
and looked down the path. He said, "I see a large ani- 
mal coming. He looks very fierce. He is as large as a 
Targe bear, but he is yellow all over and has long, shaggy 
hair all over his head, and beautiful, large eyes, and a long 
tail, with a tassel on the end of it. He has long, sharp 
claws, and he walks like a cat. Just then the owl saw this animal and said, 
"Who-o-o? Who-o-o-o??" The animal opened his mouth and gave the most 
awful "Roar! Roar!! Roar!!! Roar!!!!" you ever heard. It frightened the 
little Cub Bear so that he did n't stop to hear what the Circus Bear said, or 
find what kind of an animal it was at all, but he ran clear back in the very back 
part of the cave, into Neddie's room, and there he waited, almost frightened to 
death. As soon as the little Cub Bear got over his fright, he noticed the air 
blowing through a crack. It seemed to come right out of the mountain. He 
did not understand, and thought he would ask his brother about it. Just then 
the Circus Hear said, "CoJBkout, conic out, little Cub Bear; clout be afraid; 
the animal is a lion, and^ lit>n't hurt you, because he is a tame lion, and is a 
very good friend of mine^^^so the little Cub Bear came out and went to the 
mouth of the cave, just in time to meet the lion and the monkey, and he said 
very politely, "Come in, Mr. Lion." And the lion came in, and the little Cub 
Bear said, "We are going to try and build a house big enough for all the animals, 
so if they come to see us we will have a place for them to stay. Can you 
help us?" And the lion said, "I would be very glad to help you if I could, 
because your brother was very good to me when we were in the circus." 
And the little Cub Bear said, "What can you do?" And the lion said, "I don't 
know. I never built a house, because 'I always lived in the jungle where there 
are lots of trees and grass, and we found our houses already built, just like your 
den. I will do anything that you want me to. I can jump ever so far." And the 
little Cub Bear said, "That is nice. Let 's see how far you can jump." Then 
the Papa Bear and the Mama Bear and the little Cub Bear and the monkey 




all went out to see how far the lion could jump. The lion climbed up the dead 
tree where the owl was sitting, but the owl was fast asleep; and the lion went so 
softly that the owl did n't hear him at all. Pretty soon, the lion got clear up to 
the limb, where the owl was sitting, and he reached, out his great nose and smelt 
the owl. My! You never saw a bird so frightened in all your life. The owl 
flapped his great wings and started to fly away. He forgot to say, "Who-o-o-o? 
Who-o-o-o??" and only said, "To-whit! To-whit! To-whit!" But while the 


owl was flying around, the lion crept way out on the limb, and he said, "Now, I 
will show you how I catch things to eat." And he pointed down to a log of 
wood, ten or fifteen feet away, and he said, "I will show you what I would do, if 
that log were a deer." The lion crouched along the limb and lay as still as a little 
mouse, and the bears were all still, waiting to see what the lion would do. There 
was not a sound in the forest. Suddenly little Cub Bear saw a yellow flash 
through the air and heard a thud, and he looked up to the branch of the tree, and 
the lion was gone. Then he looked to the log of wood, and there was the lion 
on the log with his claws stuck into it. And the little Cub Bear said, "My! I am 
glad I am not a deer, and the lion did not want me for his dinner!" 

Nature and Science 

For Young Folks..- 

■.. Failed by Edward F. Billow. 


By the brookside are found dainty and beautiful spring flowers in profusion. The green mosses and the unrolling " fiddle- 
head " ferns here develop from the cottony tufts as they first push up through the layer of decaying leaves and grasses. 

In the nearby springs and tiny pools, where grasses are of brighter green and earlier than elsewhere, abound the many 
forms of " tiny particles of life in beautifully marked glass boxes" described in the following article. These diatoms cannot 
singly be seen by the unaided eye, but your nature study teacher or some other friend who has a good compound microscope 
can gather and show them to you Probably you will not find any of the particular patterns here pictured (for the kinds are 
many) but you will be rewarded by finding others equally beautiful and interesting. 


The field excursions of the naturalist who has 
genuine love for nature, are greatly increased in 
interest if he has a practical knowledge of the 
uses of the microscope and of the material avail- 
able for study. Of all this material, the minute 
plants called diatoms form one of the most in- 
teresting classes, not only on account of their 
exceeding beauty ' but for the mysteries con- 
nected with their life-history which has not yet 
been completely observed. 

The diatom is essentially a glass box filled 

gether by a band or hoop, like the sides of the 
box. The sides of the lid and those of the box 

Cannot be seen in detail without the aid of a microscope. 

with living protoplasm. It consists of two oppo- 
site valves, like a box and the lid, joined to- 

The dainty markings are wonderfully clear and regular. 

overlap, and, as the diatom grows, separate from 
each other, until finally two new layers or valves 
are formed and the plant divides into two indi- 

Diatoms vary greatly in size, some being so- 
small as to be scarcely visible with a magnifying 
power of five hundred diameters. Others, under 
this power, appear about six inches long. They 



also differ greatly in form and outline, being 
long and narrow, straight, curved, or S-shaped, 
boat-shaped, elliptical, saddle-shaped, twisted, 
triangular, square, star-shaped, or circular. 
Others are obliquely rhomboid, with a "waist" 
like an hour-glass or a figure eight. All are beau- 
tifully ornamented with markings in almost infi- 

study these movements, and, with such a magni- 
fying lens, the motions of some resemble those of 

The markings are of regular honeycomb style. 

nite variety. Many kinds bear spines, while some 
have a row of funnels around their margin. 

Many of these little plants are almost con- 
stantly in motion, the cause of which is not well 

Resembling decorated pocket-books or card-cases. 

understood. A one-fourth- or a one-fifth-inch 
microscope objective may be conveniently used to 

Showing regular radiations from the center. 

a ferry-boat. They proceed in one direction for 
a time, stop for a moment and then return only 
to resume the journey. They travel more rap- 
idly than the steamboat, in proportion to their 
size, as some will move for a distance equal to 



The entire lot is about as large as the head of a pin. 

their length in from four to ten seconds. They 
do not avoid obstructions, but plow through 
them, or back away from them, and they may 
often be seen, under the microscope, pushing 
along a mass of debris many times exceeding 
their own weight. 




Those named Bacillaria paradoxa have the 
most peculiar motions of all. These are long and 



A regularly arranged " bouquet,", all not larger than the head of a pin. 

very narrow, and, when lying quietly together, 
they may suggest a pile of flat rods or laths. 
When they move, as they do rapidly, the lath- 
like rods slide on one another until the whole 
heap becomes a long, irregular line, the end of 
each one resting on the end of the other next to 
it. They never move far enough to slip apart, 
hut slide back over one another and again form 
the heap, or they slide onward in the opposite 
direction. Why they never slip off at the ends, 
indeed, why they move at all, is not known. They 
often advance so forcibly that they dash all ob- 
struction out of their way without the slightest 

Diatoms may be found in every permanent 
body of water, but are most abundant in the ooze 
of sluggish streams, quiet ponds and bays, inlets 
and soundings of the seashore. The shallows of 
salt marshes contain them in great numbers and 

As their shells are composed of silex (glassy) 
they are practically indestructible, being able to 
withstand a high temperature and the prolonged 
action of acids. When they are undisturbed for 
long periods, they accumulate in vast quantities. 
Nearly every large swamp with a level surface 
covers a deposit of diatoms. I have found such 
a deposit under salt marshes to be sometimes 
fifty feet thick. 

the cities of Richmond and Petersburg are 
huilt above such a formation, which also extends 

through Maryland into New Jersey. The arte- 
sian wells at Atlantic City are driven through 
more than six hundred feet of such a deposit. At 
Redondo Beach, California, is a high bluff of 
diatomaceous earth, and there are probably thou- 
sands of similar formations that have never been 
investigated. — William A. Terry. 


The wild ginger (Asarum Canadense) blooms in 
April and May, but few persons ever see it. We 
look for spring flowers above green leaves, but 
this plant is an exception, since its bloom is be- 
low its leaves and often hidden by them and by 
the dead foliage and grasses of the previous year. 

To see the plant and the flowers, in all their 
peculiar growth and appearance, carefully re- 
move the debris that surrounds them. The cup- 
shaped blossoms are the homes of many insects 
that prefer to remain near to the ground rather 
than to be in flight in the varying temperatures 
of the spring air. Close to the ground it is 
warmer and the wind less boisterous. 

The leaves are usually fresh and entire. I 
have never found them eaten by insects or higher 
forms of animal life, though their rich growth in 


The dried leaves of last year have been removed. Note the bell-like 

flowers, on the rock at lower right and lying on the ground. 

early spring would seem to make them attractive. 
The plant is called wild ginger from the ginger- 
like flavor and smell of the flowers and rootstock. 





One beautiful spring day while my friend, Mr. 

R , who has made an extended study of birds, 

and I were walking along the shore of Lake 
Minnetonka, near Minneapolis, Minnesota, we 
saw a blue jay flying by the roadside. We were 
very much interested in watching him. Soon he 
perched on an apple-tree and prepared for a 
good dinner. I asked my friend what the blue 


jay was eating. He told me that he thought it 
was the stamens and pistils of the apple blossoms. 
But on looking through my glass I found it was 
the petals that gave him his food and that, so 
quickly did he eat, the entire corolla was gone in 
a few minutes. — Kako Morita. 


As real names, cotton and fiddle heads have not 
enough in common to bring them together in one 
title; but as fanciful names for the two earliest 
stages of the springtime ferns, the two are 
closely associated. The "cotton" fern soon 
merges into the "fiddle head." 

Just as the buds of trees and shrubs are be- 
ginning to swell, cottony tufts appear all over 
the ground of the lowlands in many places, and 
so close is the resemblance that at first glance it 


seems as if little balls or wads of cotton had 
there been scattered broadcast. These balls con- 
ceal the ends of the young fern fronds, the bot- 
anist using the term "circinate" to describe this 
form of rolling or unrolling. As soon as the 
fern has grown an inch or two in height, the 
cottony appearance disappears and the "fiddle 
head" form becomes very marked. 






After a blast about one hundred feet below the 
surface in the lime rock of a mine thirty miles 
north of Winnemucca, Nevada, Mr. Charles Van 

Photograph by courtesy of the New York Zoological Society. 

Zandt (a Butte, Montana, mining man) picked 
up among the pieces of rock a much dazed toad. 
Undoubtedly it was a very interesting form of 
animal life (most toads are), and it was in an 
unusual place. It would be interesting to know 
by what series of cracks and crevices he got 
down there or how long he had been there with- 
out food or what food, if any, he had obtained. 

But all these queries are excelled in interest 
by the astonishing messages sent all over the 
country by the Associated Press, and the indus- 
try and zeal with which almost every newspaper 
in the United States has served up the "infor- 
mation" for the news appetites of its readers. 
The toad was undoubtedly there, it was found by 
Mr. Van Zandt and it later was given a fly" to 
eat. This last fact was announced in such start- 
ling headlines as "Pythagoras, the Toad, Eats 
His First Meal in a Thousand Years." 

Mr. Van Zandt kept the toad at his home in a 
porcelain jar for about seven months, the little 
animal steadily refusing all food. A representa- 
tive of the miner coming to New York reported 
the matter to Dr. Gratacap, at the American Mu- 
seum of Natural History, and he at once referred 
it to the New York Zoological Park, where the 
toad is now on exhibition in the Reptile House. 

Mr. Raymond L. Ditmars, the manager of that 
house, writes St. Nicholas as follows: 

It's pretty hard to form any definite opinion as to the 
age of toads found " imprisoned " in rocks, etc. I really be- 
lieve that a toad might live for a hundred years under 
normal conditions. I have known them to live for a year 
without food and be normally active. It is quite possible 
an imprisoned toad, with partially suspended animation, 
might live many years. The matter is one of theory only, 

however. I am after proof as to how long this toad was a 
prisoner. He might have worked his way downward 
through a series of continuous crevices, and in this case 
would have undergone no abnormal fast. 

This particular species of toad is known as the 
"spade-foot," and is famous for its underground 

Miss Mary C. Dickerson, a careful student of 
toads and frogs, writes of its habits in "The 
Frog Book" (Doubleday, Page & Company) as 

It burrows into the ground and sleeps days or weeks, 
perhaps years, at a time. A gravedigger once found one 
three feet two inches from the surface of the ground, with 
no evident exit to the burrow. . . . Except during the 
breeding season, the spade-foot is found only by accident. 
It sits in its burrow, showing only its peculiar golden eyes, 
at the doorway. The turnip-shaped burrow is about six 
inches long and somewhat oblique in position. The earth 
on the interior is hard and smooth, packed into this con- 
dition by a continued energetic turning-about on the part 
of the owner of the burrow. 

It is true that the habits of this species and the 
location of this particular specimen are astonish- 
ing, but in this respect have not equaled the 
many statements that have recently been printed 
with startling headlines. 


A pamphlet on the study of field-mice, by David 
E. Lantz, recently issued by the United States 
Department of Agriculture, suggests an interest- 
ing study of the winding burrows of the meadow- 

The author tells us that he often finds food 
stored in these underground galleries. "I have 
several times discovered such hoards, consisting 
of leaves or succulent stems, but more frequently 
entirely of the wild white morning-glory roots. 
. This root tastes much like sweet potato 
and is abundant in swamps and waste places fre- 

Stored underground by meadow mice. The scale is six inches long. 

quented by the mice. While feeding they sit up 
on their hind legs and use the front paws to 
handle the roots, after the manner of squirrels." 





First I got two pieces of plate-glass, six inches 
square and one inch thick. Then I broke the cor- 
ners off to nlake them round, and ground the 

Wade by John E. Mellish, a farmer boy near Cottage Grove, Wis. 

rough edges smooth ; then fastened one glass to 
the top of a barrel and fastened a handle to one 
■side of the other glass. I then spread some wet, 
coarse-grain emery on the glass fastened to the 
barrel and worked the other glass over it, all the 
time walking around the barrel and also rotating 
the upper glass, which will work concave and the 
under one convex. After the glass was ground 
enough to bring the rays of the sun to a point at a 
distance of five feet, finer grades of flour emery 
were used to smooth the surface ready for polish- 

The polishing is done with pitch and jeweler's 
rouge. The under glass or the tool was covered 
with pitch one fourth of an inch thick and 
molded into squares of one inch, with one fourth 


of an inch spaces. The pitch was pressed with 
the concave glass (or speculum) so that all the 
squares will touch ; then the squares were painted 
with rouge and the speculum moved over them 
the same as before, until polished. 

The drawing shows the way the glasses are in 
the tube. The rays of light (R) from the object 
the telescope is pointed to come through the tube 
and are reflected from the speculum (S) back to 
the small flat mirror in the center of the tube, 
and from that to the eyepiece in the side of the 

The cost of the telescope, beside the eyepieces 
and the work, which was about fifteen days, was 
only seven dollars. 

John E. Mellish. 


Dr. R. W. Shufeldt, noting that "Nature and 
Science" is taking a special interest in bats, con- 
tributes to our study the accompanying photo- 
graph, taken from life, of two bats on an old tree 
stump. The upper animal, clinging to the wood, 
is the Serotine bat ; the lower one, suspended by 
the feet, is the red bat. 

"Nature and Science" cordially invites obser- 
vations or photographs of bats. 

If any of our young folks succeed in capturing 
live bats, kindly write me. I desire to obtain 


some so as to carefully study their habits in my 
laboratory. Address Edward F. Bigelow, Stam- 
ford, Connecticut. 





a snow squirrel 

Columbus, Ohio. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I saw the snow figures in the 
January number and am sending you a picture of a snow 


squirrel my brother made in our back yard. I remain 
Lovingly yours, 

Mildred Fisher. 

This is well done. Who has a photograph of 
snow sculpturing as good as this? 

picking trailing arbutus 

Traverse City, Mich. 
Dear St. Nicholas: One day last spring I went out for 
arbutus. I went out on the peninsula road and I got a 
whole basket full of it. It does not grow so thick as it 
used to, for it has been pulled up by the roots. The color 
of it is white, pale pink, and a darker pink. It grows close 
to the ground under the leaves. I suppose many of the 
girls and boys have never seen any of it. I will send some 
of it to you. 

Your interested reader, 

Katherine N. Davis. 

With some plants and flowers, interest and 
love may well be shown by gathering "whole 
baskets" of them. But "Nature and Science" de- 
sires to caution boys and girls everywhere to 
pick very sparingly, or, better, not at all, of any 
dainty and delicate plant like the trailing arbu- 

tus, especially if "it does not grow so thick as it 
used to." 

It would be in the interests of real "nature 
study" for every State to pass a law similar to 
the following one in Connecticut : 

1899, ch. 102 

"§1224. Wilful destruction of trailing arbutus. Every 
person who shall wilfully destroy, pull up, tear up, or dig 
up, any trailing arbutus from the land of another, or who 
shall sell, expose for sale, or purchase, or have in his pos- 
session, any trailing arbutus with the roots or underground 
stems attached, taken from land not owned or occupied by 
him, shall be fined not more than twenty dollars." 

Shut your eyes and think a moment. You can 
"see" the flower; but what about the fruiting of 
arbutus? It is a "many-seeded pod." Did you 
ever see it ? Let the flowers grow and see what 
will be produced. 

this jack-in-the-pulp1t must be heard 

Stamford, Conn. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I have sent you a Jack-in-thepulpit 
which grew beside our back piazza, having been planted 
there several years ago from the woods. Why do you sup- 
pose it has a double hood? 

Yours truly, 

Elizabeth H. Smith. 

a jack-in-the-pulpit. 

With a double spathe. 

The question, "Why?" in many th 
ing to nature cannot be answered. 

ings pertain- 
It is of in- 




terest to observe the fact, even if no explanation 
can be given. The plant you sent shows a re- 
markable and very interesting doubling. 

In the fancy that the spathe is the old- 
fashioned "sounding-board" over "Jack," the 
preacher, in his "pulpit," then surely this Jack's 
double effort should extend his influence. Let us 
hope it will — by encouraging observation of un- 
usual things in Nature. 

success in working out suggestions 
for vine tepee 

Pottstown, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas: We read in last May's number of 
the St. Nicholas about the Indian tepee, and were de- 

The height of the poles is three yards. The distance 
between the poles is twenty-nine inches. The width of 


Grown from suggestions in last May's " Nature and Science" 

See page 651. 

lighted with the idea. We at once began to make prepar- 
ations to erect and grow one in our garden. 

The first thing we did was to use last year's bean poles 
which we drove into the ground and tied together at the 
top with ropes. We went to many stores for seeds. 
Spring being late we had the pleasure of planting the 
seeds several times, because they froze as soon as they 
came up. About the Fourth of July we began to have 
hopes of a final success. 

Framework of poles and wire netting. 

the tepee is two yards. We enjoyed playing in it very 
much because it was much cooler and the air circulated 
through the leaves easier than through a canvas tent. We 
are going to try again next year and make it much larger. 
The picture was taken August twenty-second. 

Yours truly, 

Emma Saylor. 

I congratulate you on your success, which is 
among the best of the many attempts that have 
been made in line with my suggestion, in 
St. Nicholas for May of last year. 

Let me make another suggestion to you and to 
others who will try again to grow a vine house 
this coming season : 

Put the poles in the form of a house, not of a 
tepee. This will be a real green house (not 
merely a house for green plants), and the ar- 
rangement will give more room. Herewith is a 
sketch of the arrangement I would suggest. A 
partition could easily b~ grown, because the vines 
of the partition would get to the top as soon as 

Who will work this out and send photograph ? 

those surrounding, and the light would not be shut 
out by the surrounding vines until the partition 
vines were grown. 


FEB., 1905. THEN T3.) 


JULY, igo?.) 

Photographs for use in the League Album are 
coming in more rapidly, now that we have shown 
what an attractive use we intend to make of them. 
This is as it should be. The League member who 
has worked hard enough to win a place on the roll 
of Honor Members should have as full recognition 
as the League can give, and should not hesitate to 
accept a place in the League Album, where it is 
our purpose to present to our readers in monthly 
groups some of the most talented English-speaking 
and writing young people in the world. 

As we have said before, we want photographs of 
all the Honor Members, new and old. We want 
them taken as near to the time when the Honor 
was won as possible, and we suggest that members 
winning gold badges or cash prizes to-day, should 
send their photographs as soon as possible. Re- 
member that every gold badge winner is an Honor 
Member. Don't wait to win a cash prize. 

We have room this month for a few selected con- 




APRIL, 1904. THEN 13.) 

tributions of some of the members whose pictures 
we present. We also give the dates of prize awards 
under the pictures, so that those who may be 
interested further can look up any winner's work 
in back numbers of the magazine. 



( Gold Badge) 

O Birthday of our nation strong, 

O day that children hail with glee, 
O day to be remembered long ; 
All nature pays respect to thee! 

For see! the sun is fiery red, 
And so is all the flaming East ; 

Behold the heavens overhead 

With pearly white are softly fleeced, 

While underneath, the azure sea 
Lies smiling, in the happy dawn, 

The dawn of courage, bold and free, 

From which our country's power is drawn. 





{Gold Badge) 
On one of the first sunny days I can remember I was in a 
broad field, with long-stemmed, golden-hearted daisies 
nodding drowsily all about me in the sunshine, and boom- 
ing bees and buzzing flies sailing gaily on gauzy wings 
from flower-head to flower-head. Then I could not name 
even the daisies' stem, and I was content. To me they 
were unfathomable mysteries, whose very existence was a 
profound wonder. Oh, for a day like that again ! 

Then there is a memory of an old cellar laid bare to the 
elements by fire and decay. It is a dim recollection of 

MAY, I902.) 
Contributing to periodicals. 

AUG., 1906.) 
Contributing to periodicals. 

heavily-fruited blackberry bushes, of shining tin pails 
brimming over with their luscious contents, of a stained 
face and crimson fingers, and a deep content. How fast 
my hands flew from berry to berry ! How many I did 
manage to eat, and how few fell into my pail! 

On another day, a sunny day, we had been on a long 
walk through thickly growing woods. It was a strange 
country, and when we came out, my father's "bump of lo- 
cality " failed him. We were lost! And I prayed we 
might find our way again. My father climbed a tree and 
discovered our whereabouts, and we soon were home. 

All the scenes of the vanished past roll away, and leave 
only the present before me. A whirlwind of memories 
sweep my brain, adventure falling over adventure, and 
happy incidents tripping them up. 

The waves of the sounding sea send an echo of gurgling 
waters across my mind, and I remember standing barefoot 



DEC, 1907.) 

Vol. XXXV. -83. 



DRAWING, FEB., 1902.) 



MAY, 1904. THEN 16.) 

ANSWERS, JAN. ,1908.) 

in the cool damp sand when the tide was out, watching the 
fiddler-crabs. It was then, in a pool of salt sea water, I 
first investigated the mystery of the hermit-crabs — how 
they live in shells not their own. It was then I saw a 
homeless hermit turn another out of his shell and take 
possession himself, only to be turned out again by the 
rightful owner. If I should write down here all the memo- 
ries of sunny days that throng my brain, the League of all 
the past months and for years to come, could not contain 
them, so I shall not try. 



{Gold Badge) 

Not he who proud and dauntless stood 
To stem the rising of the flood, — 



VERSE, MAR., J.905.) DRAWING, JAN., 1905.) 

That stream " to whom the Romans pray," — 
And after he had won the day 

Was greeted with loud cheers ; 
Nor he who held the narrow pass,— 
The Spartan king, Leonidas, — 
Who perished for his country's sake, 
And in our hearts doth ever make 

A monument of tears : 
My hero is not known to fame, 
And doubtless "Legion is his name." 
Oh, he who tries to curb his will, 
Aod banish self ; and, striving still, 

O'ercomes his selfish fears, — 
To him alone my praise I give, 

Who " lives to learn and learns to live." 



{Cash Prize) 

Spring flowers in the land. Primrose and violet, 
Cowslip and buttercup, and young green grass; 
Oh, how it all cries out, " Let sorrows pass, 

The world is new again — forget, forget!" 


Spring flowers in the land! Balm! Leaves dew-wet, 
That fair and subtle scent of freshening mold! 
Oh, how it seems to say, " Renounce the old, 

Partake of the to-day — forget, forget!" 

Spring flowers in the land. Love's alphabet, 
Rehearsed in song by the pairing birds ; 
Oh, how it seems to urge me — " Learn the words 

Of earth's revival song — forget, forget!" 

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Our " Flower " competition was bound to be a popular 
one. All young folks, and old ones, too, love flowers. 
Young people, especially, like to write about them, and to 
make pictures of them. The May League was therefore 
one of the largest we have had for a long time, and the 
contributions are of a high order of excellence. 

Of the flower legends there were, of course, sure to be a 
number about Narcissus and Hyacinth and Forget-me- 
not and Pansy, most of them a good deal alike, and all 


very well done, so we put most of the names of their 
senders on the Roll of Honor, according to merit, and used 
as many of the unusual ones as possible. 

As to the poems, so many of them were so good that it 
was very difficult to make the selections. If we have not 
always made the best choice, we have at least been consci- 
entious, and those young authors and artists for whose 
work we have not found room, may rest assured that if 
their work continues good they will win recognition at last. 
When this number reaches them, we shall all be in the 
happy spring days, with new hopes, and new courage, and 
with new resolution to try and to keep on trying until 
success shall come. 


In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered. 

Verse. Cash prize, Marian Risedorph (age 13), Kin- 
derhook, N. Y. 

Gold badges, Barbara Kathleen Webber (age 14), 
4 Queen Anne Terrace, Plymouth, Devon, Eng. ; Margaret 
Frances Andrews (age 13), Newport, R. L, and Kather- 
ine Davis (age 15), 123 N. 15th St., St. Joseph, Mo. 

Silver badges, Mary Frances Williams (age 12), 571 1 
Washington Ave., Chicago, 111.; Isabel D. Weaver (age 13), 
713 S. Third St., Evansville, Ind.; Louisa Pharo (age 10), 
Box 197, Haverford, Pa., and Margaret A. Dole (age 16), 
91 Glen Road, Jamaica Plain, Boston, Mass. 

Prose. Gold badges, Elizabeth Eckel (age 16), 207 
N. 7th St., St. Joseph, Mo., and Beulah Elizabeth Am- 
idon (age 13), 397 7th Ave., South, Fargo, N. D. 

Silver badges, Margaret Bartlett (age 13), 505 Jackson 
St., Peoria, 111. ; Lucy Cornelia Wheeler (age 12), East 
Bloomfield, N. Y., and Dorothy Dwight^age 11), 636 
Prospect Ave., Hartford, Conn. 

Drawing. Cash prize, Esther Brown (age 15), Vil- 
lette, 72 Endless St., Salisbury, England. 

Gold badges, Adolph G. Schneider (age i6\i7 Pleasant 
St., E. Norwalk, Conn., and Webb Mellin Siemens (age 
14), 1620 Buchanan Ave., St. Joseph, Mo. 

Silver badges, Mary Woods (age 16), 51 rue de Va- 
renne, Paris, France; Dorothy Woods (age 14), 51 rue de 
Varenne, Paris, France, and Edward S. Marples (age 12), 
3124 Poppleton Ave., Omaha, Neb. 

Photography. Gold badges, Marjorie Walbridge 
Brown (age 14), 802 Belvidere Ave., Netherwood, N. J., 
and Carola von Thielmann (age 17), Rauchstrasse 9, 
Berlin, W. 10, Germany. 

Silver badges, F.B.Godwin (age 15), Roslyn, L. I., and 
Howard Re Qua (age 9), 3629 Grande Boule., Chicago, 111. 

Wild Creature Photography. First prize, "Stag," by 
Henry Noel (age 15), 5065 McPherson Ave., St. Louis, 
Mo. Second prize, " Bear," by William Richards (age 12), 
1725 First Ave., Spokane, Wash. Third prize, " Wood- 

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chuck," by J. Donald McCutcheon (age 13), 156 Harvard 
Road, Thornburg, Pa. Fourth prize, "Young Squirrel," 
by Ellen K. Hone (age 12), Bisby Lake (via McKeever), 
N. Y. 

Puzzle-Making. Gold badges, Harriet E.Gates (age 16), 
2725 N. Lincoln St., Ravensvvood, Chicago, 111., and 
Lowry A. Biggers (age 10), Berry Road, Kirkwood, Mo. 

Silver badges, Elizabeth M. Ruggles (age 14), 2545 
Baker St., San Francisco, Cal., and Thomas F. Wettstein 
(age 15), 37 Rich Ave., Mt. Vernon, N. Y. 

Puzzle Answers. Gold badge, A. Robert Kirschner 
(age 14), 2229 S. 67th St., Philadelphia, Pa. 

Silver badges, Mary'H. Oliver (age 16), Kelsey, N. Y. ; 
Edward Eastman (age 17), Paris, Maine, and Jennie 
Lowenhaupt (age 9), Roselle, N. Y. 



(Gold Badge) 
Far beyond the hills of sleep 

Lie fields of pink and white, 
Where the dream-flowers blossom fadeless 

In the falling dusk of night. 

The tall hills stand forever, 

To keep out the daring foe, 
And the poplar trees in the whisp'ring breeze 

Swing softly to and fro. 

And there the souls of the sleeping 

Rest by the riverside, 
'Mid the perfumed dreams of the poppy flowers, 

And the music of its tide. 

And the whole of the earth is silent, 

For the souls of men are laid 
Among the fields of pink and white, 

In the rustling poplar shade. 



(Cold Badge) 

The queen of the fairies was jealous. A rumor had 
floated to the court that a certain little child surpassed in 
beauty any fay in fairyland. Worst of all, this lovely being 
was the child of a wood-cutter. So the blue-eyed queen 
had frowningly declared that the child should be enticed 
to the heart of the forest on the following morning, never 
to leave in her human form. Later, the fairies had de- 
parted, many to weave magic airs to aid in the morrow's 

Down a forest aisle, next day, came little Susan, and a 
sunbeam crept along the path to caress her. Her lips 
were red from berries ; her eyes were black and dreamy. 

The dreamy look deepened, when gentle, whispering 
music sounded from the arching branches overhead, and 
from behind every rock and bush. Soon the wood was 
alive with song. Sweeter and stronger grew the music, 
and gathering around her Susan saw, with wondering eyes, 
the little people of the forest. They held out -entreating 
arms, and fluttered along ever before her, luring her 
straight to the fairy court. 

The queen had been waiting very impatiently. Now her 
little hand sought her fluttering heart. The woodman's 
child approached. Plow radiant she was, her berry-stained 
lips parted in wonder, a cloud of gold around her bewitch- 
ing face, and shyly peeping through this golden veil, her 
glorious black eyes. 

Then the gates of fairyland swung wide for little Susan. 
When weary of its joys, she rested on the grass, the court 
around her. They had been weaving a green garland, and 
now they placed it on her yellow head. Laughing, she 
raised her dimpled arms to adjust the crown and then ■ — 
then — the whole chorus of fairies crept close, close to 
the little child and sang softly as a lullaby, — 
" Once again the forest pool, 

In its mirror depths so cool, 

Shall proclaim our queen to be 

Fairest far by land and sea. 

For satin cheek, silken hair, 





Velvet eyes of Susan fair 
We will change to flower rare, 
To a Black-eyed Susan." 

And as the song faded, the darling face of the child 
changed suddenly, and the fairies were crowding around 
a great yellow daisy, a Black-eyed Susan. But the queen, 
looking at the perfect flower, saw in the velvet center, 
only the dark reproachful eyes of little Susan, and in the 
many yellow petals, Susan's golden curls. 



(Gold Badge) 

Lazy, lazy, lazy, 

Little tiny daisy, 
Basking in the sun, 
Count your petals one by one, 

Tell me does he love me. 



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Underneath the sky so blue 
Are other posies sweet as you ; 
But your dainty little face, 
— Golden center, fringed with lace — 
Is like the sun above me. 

Waving in the meadow, you 

Are nodding, saying "How d' do? " 

You cheer the children on their 

As they pass you every day, 
Happy little daisy. 



{Gold Badge) 

At night, when tucked in .bed I lie, 
I watch and watch the starry sky, 
And fancy 't is a garden high 

Where angel children play ; 
The stars are dandelions gold, 
That with the setting sun unfold, 
And flaunt their colors bright andbold, 

Till night has passed away. 
Then, in the morning sunrise glow, 
When little breezes come and go, 
Theirheads to fleecycloud-puffs blow, 

And fleck the sky all day. 






( Gold Badge) 
Long ages ago, many years before Pandora opened the 
Box of Troubles, the First Baby sat in the shade, or crept 
soberly from tree to tree, patting the rough bark, or play- 
ing with the fuzzy caterpillars. 

One morning, when the sun shone brightly, the First 
Baby started to creep to a poplar tree, whose shade had 
dancing flecks of sunshine in it. However, the Baby 
stopped midway. It felt the warm, golden glow of the 
sunshine, and saw, in its indistinct baby way, that there 
was no tree above to hide the sunshine.' The First Baby 
looked about. The confines of the tiny clear place hurt, 
and it longed for something bigger and broader. Instinct- 
ively it looked upward, and there was the deep, turquoise 
sky of May, as boundlessly expansive as it is to-day, pat- 
terned into exquisite lacework by the half-foliaged tree 
branches. A golden sunbeam touched the rosy cheeks of 
the First Baby, and as the beauties of the May morning 
filled the tiny soul with joy, a gladsome laugh burst from 
the coral lips. The sunbeams caught every tiny piece of 
that first laugh, and carried them over the whole world. 
Each little particle became a beautiful flower, clothing the 
earth in a rainbow gown, for when it heard the silvery 
laugh, all Nature awoke and rejoiced in the springtime. 


(AGE 12) 
(Silver Badge) 
PlTTER-PAT, pitter-pat, 

Calls the fresh spring rain. 
Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, 
It softly calls again. 

When the flowers hear it, 
They all peep forth in glee. 

Iris from the river side, 
Kingcups from the lea. 

Little fairy snowdrops, 
Periwinkles blue, 

Crocuses and cowslips, 
Flowers of every hue. 

Blue bells and violets, 
Growing in the dell, 

Little children gather them — 
Oh, how sweet they smell! 

Buttercups and daisies, 
Dandelions, too, 

Gather them in handfulls, 
There 's some for all of you. 





"a study of flowers." by webb mellin siemens, age 14. 
(gold badge.) 


{Silver Badge) 

O FLOWERS of the field and wood, 

At spring's first call, from earth you spring! 

Of you, who light the forest depths, 
It is of you, fair flow'rs, I sing. 

O violet of the forest ways, 

Who, pushing through the crusted snow, 
Up from the frosted banks you spring, 

And care not how the winds do blow. 

O daisies, under summer skies, 

You bloom in fields, — a hundredfold, 

Where dandelions lift their heads, 

And strew the warm turf with their gold. 

And when the winds of spring return, 
The fields are bright with buttercup, 

And here and there, in sunny hues, 
A daffodil or two spring up. 

O flowers of the field and wood, 

At spring's first call from earth you spring! 
Of you who light the forest depths, 

It is of you, fair flowers, I sing. 



{Silver Badge) 

Long, long ago in England there was a wood called the 
Fairy Forest, and in this wood the fairies danced every 

One night, just before the fairies' dance began, the Fairy 
Queen said: "Dear fairies, to-day I heard some children 
talking, and they were wishing for a funny flower, a flower 
which they might call their own and which they might 
laugh over. So all day to-morrow let us watch for funny 
things and to-morrow night when we come here, each will 
tell the funniest thing she has seen, and out of the funniest 
we will make a flower for the children." 

So when the next night came, each of the fairies told 
something funny, but little Roseleaf who came last, said: 
" I have not seen anything very amusing, but the queerest 
thing that I saw was in Holland, where the Dutch women 
had been washing, and on one clothes-line hung no less 
than six pairs of Dutchmen's breeches." 

The fairies all laughed and clapped their hands, crying : 

" Let us make a flower the stem of which is like a minia- 
ture clothes-line and on it instead of flowers we will hang 
tiny pairs of imitation Dutchmen's breeches." 

And this was the way that flower called "Dutchmen's 
breeches " was made. 



(Silver Badge) 

Many countries of the world have plants or flowers for 
their symbols. Among the most interesting are Scotland, 
Ireland, and France. 

The thistle, with its motto, " Wha' daur meddle wi' 
me? " is Scotland's symbol. The traditional story is that 
a party of Danes or Norsemen were approaching a Scot- 
tish camp by night, when one of the number stepped upon 
a thistle. He uttered an involuntary cry of pain which 
awakened the sleeping camp. They took up arms and 
soon routed the enemy. There is no authentic record 
of the thistle earlier than the reign of King lames VI, 


although it appears on the coins of King James IV. The 
motto "In my Defense" was assumed at an early period 
and is still in use. 

Every true Irishman and many Americans wear a sham- 
rock on St. Patrick's Day. The shamrock is the national 




flower of Ireland. When St. Patrick taught the heathen 
Irish Christianity he could not make them understand the 
doctrine of the Trinity, but picking up a shamrock leaf 
which grew at his feet he explained it satisfactorily. 
Whether it became the national flower from this legend or 
because it has been regarded as a safeguard from unholy 
influences from an early period, is not known. The legend 

on the flag until the time of King Louis VII, who had a 
vision which caused him to change the toads to fleur-de- 
lys, the triple flowers of which were to him the symbols of 
his person, power, and name. 

The plant symbols have also been adopted by many fami- 
lies — indeed, they have often been used before heraldry 
became a science. 


that St. Patrick drove all reptiles out of Ireland probably 
started from the belief that no serpent can touch the sham- 

Toads, spearheads, bees, and lilies have variously been 
stated as the symbols of France, although the fleur-de-lys 
has been traced back as far as the Emperor Adrian, about 
a century after Christ. At that time, a lady with a flower 

^^QfcMka L@a<5 




{Silver Badge) 

The flowers lift up their heads in May 

All covered with the dew, 
And every posy seems to be 

An image pure and true. 

The violets and the daisies 
Are nodding in the breeze, 

While the dark green ferns and mosses 
Grow 'neath the rustling trees. 

The buttercups and cowslips 
Grow in the pasture sweet, 

Where the cows lie in the clover 
And eat, and eat, and eat. 

The roses in their garden, 

And the pansies in their pots, 

Are only just a couple of 
The lots, and lots, and lots. 

There are tens of thousands of them, 
Of flowers, fresh and sweet, 

You can find them in the country, 
They are always at your feet. 


(either an iris, gladiolus, or lily) was the symbol of Gaul. 
Pope Leo III presented Charlemagne with a blue banner 
scattered over with fleur-de-lys. The ignorant people be- 
lieved this to come from heaven, and an Englishman as- 
serts that an angel gave it to Charlemagne. Toads were 



(Silver Badge) 

One bright Sunday morning during their first summer in 
Plymouth the Pilgrims started as usual to church. On 




their way they saw some flowers which they had never 
heard of, or seen before. The flowers were like a daisy, 
except that the petals were a rich pink, and their fragrance 
was very sweet. They were so beautiful the Pilgrims 
thought them a good omen for the 
future, and as they had first seen 
them on the Sabbath they named 
the flower Sabbatia. This is the 
legend of a flower which grows on 
Cape Cod in the cranberry bogs. 

But she had chosen ill her time for birth. 

For soon a change took place in air and sky, — 

The north wind riding wild upon his mare, 

Kicked up the snow, which covered all the earth, 
And buried her so deep, it broke her tie 

With Mother Earth, while life seemed sweet and fair. 

The St. Nicholas League is an organiza- 
tion of St. Nicholas readers. The mem- 
bership is free, and a League badge and in- 
struction leaflet will be sent on application. 




{Hojior Member") 

They say that the rose has the fairest tint 

That ever a flower adorns ; 

But I know one with fairer hue 

Than any flower of thorns. 

Sleep sweet, my flower, oh, sleep, 

The sun has gone, 

And shadows creep. 

They say the forget-me-not's dainty bloom 

As the smiling sky is blue, 

But I know eyes, much sweeter far, 

That prove it is not true. 

Sleep sweet, my flower, oh, sleep, 

The sun has gone, 

And shadows creep. 

They say that the lily of purest white 

Is the flower of God above, 

But I know one to whom He gives 

A larger share of love. 

Sleep sweet, my flower, oh, sleep, 

The sun has gone, 

And shadows creep. 



(Silver Badge ) 

The air was soothing-soft as in the spring, 

Unusually warm the winter's day ; 

A tip of green pushed through the softened clay, 
And when it felt refreshed, it wished to fling 
Aside its little jacket, like a wing — 

The sun sent down his messenger so gay, 

Who helps along such ladies on their way ; 
Forth came the purest snow-drop, blossoming, 




Some naughty flowers one summer said: 
" We '11 stay here all the year. 
We will not mind the chilly snow, 
Or days so dark and drear." 

When autumn came they said, " Oh, this 

We will not mind one bit," 
But when it came to winter 

They wished that it would quit. 


{Honor Member) 
The gentle breeze 
Floats by the trees 

In sunny June. 
And there the bird 
In song is heard 
Warbling a tune. 

The lovely rose 
In graceful pose 

Lifts up her head. 
Her petals sweet 
Fall at her feet 

Pink, white, and red. 

The daisy sways — 
On her stem plays 

With butterflies. 
The eglantine 
Swings on the vine 

And faintly sighs. 

The buttercup 

From grass springs up 

From hour to hour. 

No month has e 'er 

A boon so fair 

As June's sweet flower. 




< a i\ h v. \jm 




{Honor Member) 

"Loves me, loves me not," and the girl plucked first one 
and then another, and another, of the Daisy's slender, 
white petals, and threw them down. But the wind caught 
them up again, and scattered them far over the field. And 
all the time they were singing this song, each petal adding 
a thought of the Daisy's story, as she was torn off from 
the golden center : 

" It was long, long ago, in France. 

" She was a peasant girl, and her name was Marguerite. 

" She was beautiful and good. 

"A king's son loved her. 

" He went riding on a great horse, every day at sunset. 

" He rode out of the palace gate, and over the hills and 
vales, and up to the door of the cottage where she lived. 

" She came to him, and he took her in his arms and 
kissed her. 

" They were happy. 

" But one day the bright, summer colors were gone! 

"The wind blew keen and shrill, and snow was on the 
ground, and the king and his son and the knights rode 
away to the war. 

"The women were left behind. 

" Marguerite was sad, she waited for spring and her 
lover to return, and she wondered if he truly loved her 
(as lovers are wont to do !). 

" Sometimes she murmured, ' He loves me! ' 

" Sometimes, ' He loves me not! ' 

" Then wept afresh; then dried her eyes. 

" Spring came at last ; but her lover came not. 

" He was killed in the cruel war! 

" Poor Marguerite! She died, — ah, yes, she died; but 
lived once again in us! 

" And thus it is that we can tell (the power given her 
after death) whether a heart be true or not — 

" To maiden doubtful." 

The last petal, carrying its message of fate, fell softly 
to the ground, and the barren Daisy breathed a " Yes, I 
know," as the girl turned away. She knew too, for there 
was a bright light in her eyes, but she had not heard the 
petals' song. 



{Silver Badge Winner) 

Once upon a time there was a heavy storm of rain. The 
wind blew fiercely and rocked the trees in the forest. On 
this night, a little fairy, cold, tired, and wet, wandered 
unsheltered through the wood. She could no longer fly as 
her wings were drenched. As she walked, sobbing, be- 


Vol. XXXV. -84. 


tween the stems of the plants and grasses, 
she came to a gentian that had closed its 
petals and gone to sleep. 

"Gentian, gentian, open for me! 
I 'm as unhappy as fairies can be! " 

implored the little being. 

But the flower remained obstinately shut. Again the 
fairy pleaded softly but wearily, but there was no response. 

" Because you would not do a simple act of kindness, 
may you remain forever closed! " commanded the fairy. 

And then, almost exhausted, she walked a little further. 
Again she saw a gentian, and it looked like such a soft, 
warm, cozy sleeping-chamber for a fairy that she plucked 
up courage to repeat her little verse. 

To her delight the flower answered her pityingly, and 
took her in and fed her on honey, and let her rest luxuri- 
ously on its petals. 

When morning came, the fairy, merry and rested, took 
her leave with many thanks. 

" May you have a beautiful little fringe along the edges 
of your petals such as no other flower possesses. I give 
this to you in return for your care of me." So saying the 
fairy vanished. 

That day there were two flowers in the forest who re- 
garded life very differently. One, a miserable closed 
gentian, to whom everything appeared dark ; the other, a 
lovely fringed gentian, to whom the whole world looked 
beautiful when seen through -the long, purple lashes 
given her by the fairy. 





The S-NicHg.As LeAg ^ 
ft <a & 9 #* 




One clear night at midnight, the fairies were dancing and 
singing gaily on the moss in a quiet wood. 

At last one venturesome little fellow grew tired of danc- 
ing, so he thought he would go a little way off and see 
what he could of the world. 

He saw a lovely fire-fly and he chased it for a long way. 
At last he thought he would rest a while. He looked 
around for a nook to rest in, and he sa'w that he was in a 
strange place. He was very much frightened as it was 
getting light. He called for help, but none came. His 
friends had gone in for the day. He tried to find his way 
out, but could not. At last, hopeless, he decided to sleep 
in a flower for the day. He asked many flowers, but they 
refused. The last one he asked was a lily. She said, 
"Yes." He climbed upon the lily, and he was soon fast 

When he awoke, he said to her : " Could I do anything 
lo please you? " 

" Could you make me more beautiful?" she asked. 

" Yes," he answered. 

He drew out a tiny wand and touched her, and she 
turned into a lovely, dainty lily-of-the-valley. 



Where the purplest vi'lets grow — 
Where the whitest lilies blow, — 
AVhere the daffodils are seen, 
And the cowslips, too, I ween, 

Stands a fairy pure and fair, 
Always playing, smiling there. 
On the face a smile serene — 
This fair maiden 's clothed in green. 

There she stands in that fair place, 
With her kindly upturned face. 
'Tween her ruffle's graceful fold, 
Lies her loving heart of gold. 

Sometimes Bumble on his way 
Sings to her 'mid laughter gay, 
Sometimes Lady Butterfly 
Kisses her while passing by. 

Sometimes Madam Humming-Bird 
Stops to say a friendly word, 
Friend she is of every one 
That existeth 'neath the sun. 

All who ever pass that way 
Stop to kiss that maiden gay, 
She the one who has no foes — 
Is a little pink wild rose! 





A LONG time ago there was a group of stars in the sky 
called the Seven Sisters, but one of them, Merope, fell, 
and now there are only six. 

One evening Merope's curiosity was aroused, she wanted 
to look over the bar of heaven to see what was beneath. 
As she leaned far out she saw in the depths cf the forest 
a band of men, with feathers in their hair and skins of 
animals around their bodies, talking about war. 

While the braves were thus engaged a beautiful Indian 
maiden stole quietly from a tepee and disappeared into the 
forest. She paused near a tall oak where a brave met 
her, called her "Little Rosebud," and spoke words of 
love to her. The youth persuaded her to come again the 
next evening, and fly with him into the wilderness, for the 
chief would not consent to their marriage. 

The next night Merope looked again, for she was very 
anxious about the lovers, and she had trimmed her torch 
with special care so that it would shine brightly and guide 
them on their way. Faithful to her promise Little Rose- 
bud came again and was lifted into the canoe by the strong 
arms of Cunning Wolf and paddled swiftly away. 

Merope glanced back at the camp which was all in con- 
fusion over the disappearance of the chief's daughter. 
Armed warriors set out in pursuit. They soon spied the 
little canoe in which Cunning Wolf was making a des- 
perate attempt to escape. The warriors were too many 
for him, and the distance between them was rapidly dimin- 

During the chase Merope got so excited that she forgot 
she was so near the edge and jail of a sudden lost her 
balance and fell headlong through space directly into the 
stream between the lovers and the chief's men. As her 
torch struck the water it shivered into a thousand pieces 
and, lo! each one of them became a water-lily, pure and 
white. So fast did the lilies grow that the pursuers could 
not push their canoes through them and the tough stems 
impeded their paddles. 

This is how the two lovers got safely away, how poor 
Merope fell, leaving but six sisters in the sky, and how our 
sweetest water-lily came to us. 



{Honor Member*) 
May has twined in her garland 

Blossoms both large and small, 
But to me the flowers of the orchard 

Are the fairest of them all. 

As pink as the clouds at sunset, 
As white as the drifting snow, 

Fruit-trees are covered with them 
And their branches are bending low. 

Their branches are bending and scattering 

The blossoms over the earth, 
While high in the sky a robin 

Is trilling his song of mirth. 

The sky is the color of azure, 

And the grass so green is flecked 

With patches of sunlight and shadow, 
And with fallen petals decked. 

Yes, here is the lovely springtime — 
Winds whisper of odors sweet, 

And nature her loveliest trophies 
Has gathered and laid at our feet. 




\"JP ifi r ' i 


^'^ife — -""' 


"heading." by will l. greenaway, age 16. 


Long, long years ago, in Greece, in the time of gods and 
goddesses, there lived a beautiful water-nymph, by the 
name of Clytie. Her home was in one of the many pools 
and lakes where the mermaids play. One day Apollo 
passed playing upon his lyre. Clytie, who was sitting on 
a rock, combing out her long hair, saw Apollo and fell in 
love with him and whenever he came near sang songs of 
love to him. Apollo, however, cared little for Clytie, and 
only laughed and mocked her when she sang to him. 

At last in despair Clytie gave up all hope of ever win- 
ning his love or affection, and sat on the cold ground all 
day long, as she wept and pined away. For nine days 
she had neither food nor drink, but lived on her own bitter 
tears and the cold dew, looking all the while upon the sun, 
her gaze never leaving it from rosy dawn till it sank 
among the rosy clouds at sunset. She saw no other. ob- 
ject, and while the water-nymphs were at play, she sat on 
the bank of a clear pool, watching the sun as it passed o'er 
the clouds. At last her limbs became rooted to the ground, 
and her face turned into the flower which swings upon its 
stem so as always to face the sun. 

This is the legend of the sunflower, as the Greeks told 
ft in ancient years, and though times have changed and 
gods and goddesses reign no more, we still have the sun- 
flower to remind us of this legend. 


The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges 
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings, 
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also cash 
prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge winners who shall 
again win first place. "Wild Animal and Bird Photo- 
graph " prize-winners winning another prize will not re- 
ceive a second gold badge. 

Competition No. 103 will close May 20 (for foreign 
members May 25). Prize announcements to be made and 
selected contributions to be published in St. Nicholas for 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Title to contain the word "Child" or "Children." 

Prose. Story or article of not more than four hundred 
words. " My Favorite Child or Children in History." 

Photograph. Any size, interior or exterior, mounted or 
unmounted; no blue prints or negatives. Subject, "A 
Child or Children at Play." 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. 
Two subjects, "Child or Children at Play" (from life), 
and a September Heading or Tail-piece. 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an- 
swer in full, and must be indorsed. 

Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set 
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas. 
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as shown on the 
first page of the "Riddle-box." 

Wild Animal or Bird Photograph. To encourage the 
pursuing of game with a camera instead of a gun. For 
the best photograph of a wild animal or bird taken in its 
natural home: First Prize, five dollars and League gold 


Other League matter will be found on advertising pages. 


badge. Second Prize, three dollars and League gold badge. 
Third Prize, League gold badge. Fourth Prize, League 
silver badge. 


Suggestions of subjects or titles for the various compe- 
titions are always gladly received by the League Editor. 


Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not, 
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and 
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member over 
eighteen years old may enter the competitions. 

Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the 
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as 
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be 
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied, 
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the 
number of words should also be added. These things 
must not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution 
itself— if a manuscript, on the upper margin; if a picture, 
on the margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the 
paper only. A contributor may send but one contribution a 
month — not one of each kind, but one only. 

Address : 

The St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York. 


With May's bright sunshine, our thoughts begin to turn 
to summer outings. The writer of this letter is fortunate 
in spending her summers amidst such beautiful and historic 

L C , R. I. 

Dear St. Nicholas : Thinking it might interest you, I write 
to tell you about our summer home, Little Compton, R. I. 
It is on the Seaconnet River, opposite Newport, where 
the river joins the ocean, and besides its beautiful scenery, 
it is interesting because of its historical associations. On 
our own farm is Treaty Rock, where Colonel Benjamin 
Church, and Awashonks, Queen Sachem of the Sakonnet 
Indians made the treaty that ended the King Philip war. 
Besides that, in our family graveyard, there is a stone to the 
memory of Captain Edward Richmond, dated 1693, 
which is the oldest gravestone in Little Compton. 

Betty Pabodie, daughter of John and Priscilla Alden, 
lived and was buried here. There is a small monument to 
her memory, and the house in which she lived is still 

Hoping this letter is not too long, 
Yours very truly, 

Angela Richmond (age 12). 

R , Canada. 

Dear St. Nicholas: We have a country home on the 
Canadian shore of Lake Erie. It has been raining for two 
days. To-day, when we got home from play, granny told 
us a big sail-boat had washed ashore. So after supper 
father, mother, and some others went to see the boat. The 
sky was dark and father said we would have a storm. 
When we got up to where the boat was, some one had 
taken it away. 

The sky suddenly got very black. The wind began to 
blow furiously and we seemed to be walking into a bank of 
clouds ; it was the rain coming in torrents. We could 
hardly walk because we were going against the'wind, so it 
took a very long time to get home. But when we did get 
home our, clothes were soaking wet. This all took place 
in a few minutes. 

Your devoted reader, 

Patty Stockton (age 11). 

San Francisco, Cal. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I have taken you for almost a year 
and like you very much. I finished reading " Fritzi " and 
liked it as well as any story I have ever read. 

I haven't read many letters in the "Letter-Box" that 
were from San Francisco, so I thought I would tell you 
about our city. It is building up wonderfully. On the 
chief business street, Market Street, nearly all the debris 
is cleared away, many new buildings are being erected and 
they are now building a hotel which, when it is finished, 
will be one of the grandest in the world. 

I guess you have heard that our Cliff House burnt 
down, but we still have the lovely park. 

Your loving reader, 

Estelle Jacob (age 13). 

St. Nicholas readers will remember the article printed 
soon after the San Francisco earthquake and fire, showing 
how the children of that city were making the best of the 
awful calamity that had visited them. How happy Estelle 
must be to see her beautiful city begin to grow again! 

Geneva, Switzerland. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have taken you for two years and 
I love all your stories very much. 

We have lived abroad for five years nearly ; two years at 
Florence, Italy, and the rest of the time here. 

Florence is a very interesting city, and I like it much 
better than Geneva. 

Last summer we were up at Yverdon, three hours from 
here. It is lovely country, with beautiful mountains all 
around, and there is one walk up on a hill which we often 
took. When you get to the top there is a perfectly beau- 
tiful view of all the surroundings and of the Lake of Neu- 

There was a drill going on for three days, and at night we 
could not sleep on account of the sham battles up on the 
hillside. It was very interesting indeed, and we stayed up 
until midnight as there was such a lot to see. There were 
search-lights on the hills around and it looked very spooky. 
In the daytime officers were riding all over and cannons 
were going off, making a terrible noise. The President of 
Switzerland was up there and so was the ex-President. 
They both stayed at our hotel. 

We had a perfectly fine time. 

Your interested reader, 

Emerin S. Keene (age 13^). 

B , Wisconsin. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I want to tell about a little adven- 
ture I had with my pets this morning. We have the mother 
horse, Fly, and her colt, Remus. The colt is very fond of 
sugar. He loves to be petted ; so I took some sugar down 
to the pasture gate for him to eat. Now his mother likes 
sugar also, so she thrust her nose into the dish with Re- 
mus's, so they both got their noses all over sugar, but they 
got hardly any in their mouths! Then they tried to lick 
the sugar off each other's noses but, dear me! they could n't 
both do so at once! so they had quite a time. 

I am very fond of the St. Nicholas. I began taking 
it in October, 1906. I belong to the League and send in 
a contribution nearly every month. I am trying for the 
gold badge, as I already have the silver one. 

Wishing you a long life and prosperity, I am 
Your loving reader, 
Dorothy B. Loye. 

So many of our young correspondents write of their pets 
that it seems as if boys and girls could hardly get along 
without some kind of animal to play with and love. It is 
very nice that this is so, for, besides the fun the boys and 
girls have with their pets, they learn at the same time to be 
patient and helpful to animals, and even to people who 
cannot help themselves. 

Philadelphia, Pa. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I have taken you for over three 
years and therefore have decided to write and tell how 
much I have enjoyed you. 

I think that St. Nicholas is the best magazine for chil- 
dren that has ever been. All the stories are interesting, 
and there is such a variety that all ages may find en- 

Your stories by Mr. Barbour are tip-top. 
Wishing you all the further success possible I remain, 
Your interested reader, 
Leonard Blackledge Lipmann. 



Here is a letter from the granddaughter of that grand old 
man, Edward Everett Hale, chaplain of the United States 
Senate, friend of children, and one whose writings are ever 
directed to making his fellow-men better and happier. 

New York City. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I am nine years old and I missed 
the story of "Tom, Dick, and Harriet," but I think 
"Harry's Island" is just as good. The St. Nicholas 
does n't last me at all because I read it as soon as it comes. 
I was out in Newburyport last summer and I always looked 
forward to have you come. My grandfather wrote " The 
Man Without a Country." 

I am your interested reader, 

Margaret C. Hale. 

The ancestors and older members of the families of our 
young readers are in no danger of being forgotten so long 
as girls like Margaret in the above letter and Helen in the 
letter that follows, remember them and like to speak of 
them with pride or affection. 

The mill Helen speaks of was shown on page 363 of the 
February number. 

S , Cal. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I have been taking you since last 
April, and I just love you. 

The way I got you was this : Mama said I could have 
my choice of three magazines. As I had read some of 
youf stories at school, and liked them, I said I would 
choose you. I shall never be sorry that I did. 

I was surprised this month when I looked at "Nature 
and Science," to find the picture of my great-great-uncle's 
mill. I have seen it on postals and in pictures to sell, but 
did not think of finding it in St. Nicholas, or any 

My grandmother enjoys reading you, and likes Ralph 
Henry Barbour's stories (and so do I). I am so glad 
you are going to have another one by him. I like "The 
Gentle Interference of Bab," also I thought " Fritzi " 
ended beautifully. In fact, I thought the whole story was 

I remain your loving reader, 

Helen Goode. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I went to New York on the boat a 
week after Christmas. 

I went to the Astor House for breakfast, and then I 
went up in the subway to my aunt's house on Riverside 

I went to Central Park and fed the squirrels on peanuts. 

The next day I went to the fire station and saw fire en- 
gine horses get in their places when the bell rang. 

And the next day I went to the theater and saw " Peter 
Pan," and I liked it very much. 

The next day I went to the Hippodrome and met my 
brother and went alone home. 

Richard Sayles (age 7). 

This extract from Richard's letter shows him to have been 
an active boy, for he certainly crowded a good many inter- 
esting things into the short time he was in New York. It 
is n't hard to believe that he had a good time. 

Father gave me a set of Diabolo for Christmas and I 
can throw it higher than our house and catch it. I did it 
108 times yesterday, but my record is 149. 

I have the whooping cough so I can't go to school. 
Harry, Roy, Chub, and Dick are back again and " The 
Gentle Interference of Bab," is going to be fine. 
I am sincerely yours, 

Helen Little (age 12). 

F , Mich. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I have taken the St. Nicholas for 
two years. 

We have a horse, a cow, two dogs, one bird, and four 

I like the two dogs best. Especially Turk, the largest; 
he is a Newfoundland, and a very good watch-dog. Dickens 
is a little bull-terrier always on the watch for mischief. 
Turk does not care for fighting. Dickens does. 

When dogs come into the yard "Dick" goes down to 
drive them out. 

Then Turk goes galloping down, shakes " Dickie " by 
the neck, then tends to the other dogs. 

Our neighbor's barn has a good many rats that come 
over to our cellar, and Dickie chases them all over and gen- 
erally kills them. One day a rat came in our cellar, 
Dickie knew he was there and of course went into the 
cellar. The rat was a pretty bold one, for he caught right 
hold of Dickie's nose. He took a little piece out of 
Dickie's nose. But Dickens never afterward cared to 
meddle again. 

From what I have read of " Harry's Island " I think 
I will be very fond of it. 

Your loving reader, 

Ruth Butler. 

This letter recalls the story of a man who went to a dog- 
fancier to buy a terrier that was a good fighter, and would 
protect his place. The dealer, to show how quick he was, 
put him in a yard with a rat. In a little while the rat had the 
terrier by the nose, and the dealer was obliged to come to 
the dog's help. 

A friend looking on, said to the purchaser: "Had n't 
you better buy the rat ? " 

Dear St. Nicholas: I so enjoy the St. Nicholas that 
I am sure that mother will subscribe for it until I am too 
old for such a thing, which I suppose I never will be. 
There is no girl who likes the St. Nicholas better than I 
do, I am sure. 

Sincerely yours, 

Frances Moore (age S l A). 

We wonder if Frances will ever be too old for St. Nich- 
olas. Many parents, and some grandparents tell us that 
they have n't grown too old for it. 

Rochester, N. Y. 
Dear St. Nicholas: One of my best Christinas presents 
was St. Nicholas, for it comes twelve times a year. I 
am waiting for the new number now. 

, Mass. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I am ten years old and have taken 
you for four years and hope I can take you for many more 

My two sisters and I think you are the best Christmas 
present that we get. 

We go camping every summer in Maine. Year before 
last my father and I walked over the White Mountains from 
our camping place and walked a hundred miles. 

With every hope for your success, I remain your loving 

Charles F. Crathern. 


Just after the April St. Nicholas went to press, a sad loss befell the Magazine in the death, on Thursday, 
February 20th, of Mr. Charles F. Chichester, Treasurer of The Century Co. For more than thirty years, 
Mr. Chichester had occupied a prominent position in the Company, and had taken an ever-increasing part in 
advancing its interests and enterprises. 

Born in Troy, New York, in 1848, he early developed a genuine fondness for good literature, and as a school- 
boy at the Polytechnic Institute, he displayed an unusual ability in drawing, — a gift which lured him, a few years 
later, to a course as a student in the Cooper Union School of Art. He left New York in early manhood, how- 
ever, to take advantage of the exceptional business opportunities offered by Chicago, — a city which was then 
growing by leaps and bounds. Unfortunately, disaster came to him, as to so many others, in the great fire of 
October, 1871, which converted the entire business-section of Chicago into ashes and a waste of ruin. Mr. 
Chichester began again, undaunted, but following a strong inclination toward the publishing business, he re- 
turned to New York and for a time was connected with the well-known periodical then called "The Christian 
Union." Two years later, however, in 1876, he joined the business force of the magazine-publishing firm 
with which the best years of his life were to be identified. In 1881 he was elected one of the three Trus- 
tees of The Century Co., and in 1892 became its Treasurer. 

In his business relations, he was both just and generous, and his abilities won recognition beyond the limits of 
his own immediate work, as he was for several years a Director of "The Bank of the Metropolis " and a Trustee 
of "The Union Square Savings Bank." But for The Century Co. and its enterprises he labored with untiring 
zeal. He was not only a good business man, but a well-read, scholarly lover of good literature. The actual mak- 
ing of books was a field of work in which he delighted and in which he excelled. To all such matters as the choice 
of types, the size and decoration of pages, designs for book-covers and similar details, he brought a faultless 
and exquisite taste. For a long time, too, he was on the Publication Committee of "The Grolier Club" of 
New York, and a member of "The Caxton Club" of Chicago — which have for their main object the issue of 
notable books in the finest style of the printer's and binder's arts. 

His personality was of an unusually strong and energetic type. It was in his nature to think, speak, and 
act with vigor, and this intense vitality showed itself in his varied interests, in his abounding delight in 
humor, and his warm-hearted cordiality of speech and manner. Until his last exhausting illness — which he 
faced with wonderful patience and with the courage which characterized his whole life — whatever he did or 
said was tinged with this overflowing energy. He both worked and played with all his might. He was wont 
to put every statement strongly, and his enjoyments were lit up by the same enthusiasm. It was also the key- 
note of his life-work. Next to his sacred family ties, that work was the object of his whole-hearted devo- 
tion. With inflexible honesty of purpose, he bent every energy of his mind and heart to the work in hand. 

His life was an example and inspiration to American boys, for he was a man of high ideals, and by his own 
unaided efforts he won his way to a place of distinction and wide usefulness in his chosen calling. He has 
left an abiding impress upon the history of The Century Co., and upon the hearts of all his friends, asso- 
ciates, and fellow-workers ; and his death is recorded with sorrow in the pages of this magazine, for which he 
cherished always an affectionate interest and pride. 

and the horrors of war are brought out with vividness in 
THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BATTLE ^ account wh;di we pdnt of the conflkt Jn Manik Bay _ 

OF MANILA But for the .<j ackies » w ho enlisted in the Navy three 

By an odd coincidence it happens that the instalment of years before, little dreaming at the time that they would be 

"Three Years Behind the Guns " which appears in this called upon to take part in an actual battle, it was a thrilling 

May number of St. Nicholas contains an account of the occasion ; and all boys will be interested in the sensations 

Battle of Manila which occurred just ten years ago this and experiences of the men who were literally "behind the 

month. War is a poor way at best to settle differences, guns " on that historic day. 



Cross-word Enigma. April Fool. 

Double Acrostic. Initials, Marcus; fifth row, Cicero. Cross- 
words: i. Medical. 2. Ability. 3. Rebecca. 4. Cancels. 5. Un- 
dergo. 6. Succors. 

A Roman Zigzag. Julius Caesar. Cross-words: 1. Julian. 2. Ful- 
via. 3. Salona. 4. Appian. 5. Brutus. 6. Marius. 7. Alaric. 8. 
Trajan. 9. Cicero. 10. Vestal, n. Cannse. 12. Ramnes. 

Oblique Rectangle, i. B. 2. Dug. 3. Build. '4. Glows. 5. 
Dwell. 6. Slays. 7. Lyres. 8. Sever. 9. Sewed. 10. Refer, n. 
Delay. 12. Raw. 13. Y. 

Charade. Cap-it-u-late. 

Illustrated Primal Acrostic. Jackson. 1. Jug. 2. Anchor. 
3. Cat. 4. King. 5. Snail. 6. Orange. 7. Nest. 

Triple Beheadings. New Orleans. 
3. For-ward. 4. Dev-ours. 5. Bar-rack 

1. Pro-noun. 
6. Art-less. 

Dep-arts. 9. Qui-nine. 10. Pre-sent. 


Word-squares. I. 1. Oasis. 
Sends. II. 1. Comet. 2. Opera. 


3. Spain. 

4. Erase. 

senas. 11. 1. corner. 2. wpera. 3. meiai. 4. .ciase. 

Connected Word-squares. I. 1. Stars. 2. Tarot 
4. Romal. 5. Stale. II. 1. Edna. 2. Door. 3. Nc 
III. 1. Racer. 2. Adore. 3. Colon. 4. Erode. 5. R( 

2. End-ear. 
7. Dec-ease. 

4. Iliad. 5. 

5. Tales. 

. _. Racer. 2. Adore. 3. Colon. 

Spar. 2. Peru. 3. Arms. 4. Ruse. 

1. Leave. 3. Eaten. 4. Avert 
3. Aria. 

3. Aroma 

3. Nose. 4. Area 

4. Erode. 5. Renew. IV. r 
V. I. Air. 2. Tria. -2. RaD 

5par. 2. r*eru. 3. Arms. 4. Kuse. V. 1. Air. 2. Ida. 3. Rap 
VI. 1. Clear. 2. Leave. 3. Eaten. 4. Avert. 5. Rents. VII. 1 
Boar. 2. Ogre. 3. Aria. 4. Real. VIII. 1. Xebec. 2. Elate. 3 
Bacon. 3. Etons. 5. Cense. IX. 1. Polo. 2. Open. 3. Levy. 4 

To our Puzzlers: Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should be ad- 
dressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the February Number were received before February 15th, from " Peter Pan and Tinker Bell " — Elsio 
Nathan — Betty and Maury — Daniel W. Hand, Jr. — " Marcapan " — Grace Lowenhaupt — Helen Louise Gustin — A. Riker, Jr., and K. Camp — 
Francis G."Ahlers— Gordon B. Sherwood — " Benjo" — David, Carleton and Hugh — Jo and I — Margaret E. Slocum — Elizabeth Spencer — Sydney 
L. Wright, Jr. — H. Beaty— Margaret H. Smith — Carl H. Weston— L. Alys Waring — "Jolly Juniors." 

Answers to Puzzles in the February Number were received before February 15th, from D. Robbins, 2 — Geo. Arata, 2 — Edna Meyle, n — 
Ruth Louise Crane, 4 — :< Father and I," 6 — Stoddard P. Johnston, 8 — Letty Robinson, 9 — Frances Mclver, 7 — Mary G. Bonner, 3 — L. and K. 
Vermilye, 4 — Kenneth C. McKenzie, 5 — Gwladys E. Jenkins, 6 — Randolph Monroe, n — Frances Howe, 6 — Harriet J. Hite, 2 — Emma D. Miller, 
12 — Isabel Barnard, 2 — D. J. Ortman, 2 — " Queenscourt," 12 — Mary L. Stover, 9 — Edna Astruck, 10 — Helen Beals, 5 — H. Schermerhorn, 
8 — Harriet T. Barto, 4 — Alice H. Farnsworth, 5. 

So many sent in answers to one puzzle that, for lack of space, these cannot be acknowledged. 


(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 
. 13 . . . . 

3 • 7 ■ 

12 . 

9 ■ 
• 4 5 
11 . . 

CROSS-WORDS : I. A city of West Virginia. 2. A sea- 
port of Peru. 3. A city of New York State, named after a 
very ancient city of Ortygia. 4. A city of Connecticut. 5. 
One of the United States. 6. Another of the United 
States. 7. A river of Colorado. 8. A city of France. 9. 
One of the United States. 10. A city of Connecticut. 

When the above names have been rightly guessed, the 
initials will spell one of the United States, and the letters 
represented by the figures from 1 to 6, and from 7 to 13 
will each spell a city in that State. 



(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

All the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below an- 
other, the initials, reading downward, will spell a character 

in one of the stories in St. Nicholas for December, 1907; 
and the finals, reading upward, will spell the name of 
another character in the same story. 

Cross-words: i. Recurring every day. 2. A clear light 
yellow. 3. A cover to an aperture. 4. Dialect. 5. To 
caper. 6. A Russian whip. 7. A rapacious bird. 8. 
Counting frames. 9. To come back. 10. At no time. 
11. A feminine name. 12. Juvenility. 



1. Every. 2. A pain. 3. To burn. 4. A brave man. 



(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

Example: Rearrange a measure of length, and make a 
fruit. Answer, mile, lime. 

I. Rearrange matured, and make a landing-place. 2. 
Rearrange flesh, and make gentle. 3. Rearrange to dig, 
and make manner. 4. Rearrange to harvest, and make to 
peel. 5. Rearrange a title used in addressing a sovereign, 
and make an ascent. 6. Rearrange possesses, and make a 
form of water. 7. Rearrange thin, and make a narrow 

When the letters have been rearranged, and the new 
words written one below another, one of the rows of 
letters, reading downward, will spell the surname of an 
American poet. 






My firsts are in charm, but not in spell; 

My seconds, in harp but not in bell ; 

My thirds are in worried, but not in calm ; 

My fourths are in spices, but not in balm ; 

My fifths are in helm, but not in mast ; 

And my wholes come to tell us that winter is past. 


In this numerical enigma the words are pictured instead 
of described. When the ten objects have been rightly 
guessed and the forty-two letters set down in proper order, 
they will spell a couplet by Emily Dickinson. 

v. D. 


Example : Spell to boast backward, and make clothing ; 
behead, transpose, and make an obstacle. Answer, brag, 
garb, bar. 

I. Spell to superintend publication backward and make 
current ; behead, transpose, and make to expire. 2. Spell 
a kind of large grass backward, and make a ruminant quad- 
ruped ; behead, transpose, and make before. 3. Spell to 
stuff backward, and make a coin; behead, transpose, and 
make a chariot. 4. Spell a carnivorous quadruped back- 
ward, and make a stream ; behead, transpose, and make a 
carnivorous biped. 5. Spell a kind of wagon backward, 

and make a market ; behead, transpose, and make a rodent. 
6. Spell a feigned blow backward, and make quick, smart 
blows ; behead, transpose, and make a serpent. 7. Spell 
a snare backward, and make a portion ; behead, transpose, 
and make a sailor. 8. Spell an instrument for showing 
time backward, and make caused to lie down; behead, 
transpose, and make a feminine name. 9. Spell a masculine 
name backward, and make another masculine name; be- 
head, transpose, and make a number. 10. Spell sleeps for 
a brief portion of time backward, and make a brief portion 
of time; behead, transpose, and make woolly surface. 11. 
Spell to esteem backward, and make recompense; behead, 
transpose, and make a river. 12. Spell a bar of wood or 
metal backward, and make a person who tells falsehoods ; 
behead, transpose, and make atmosphere. 13. Spell 
steers wildly, as a ship, backward, and make to cause to 
incline to one side; behead, transpose, and make a devia- 
tion from the right way in steering. 

The words all correspond in length to those given in the 
example. The initials of the thirteen new words spell the 
name of a May holiday. 

E. ADELAIDE HAHN (Honor Member). 


My first is a shortening for a name ; 
My scccmd, the middle of the same; 
My following one is part of a chain ; 
My whole is a bird that we hear in the lane. 



I. Doubly behead and doubly curtail a souvenir, and 
leave human beings. 2. Made, and leave to consume. 3. 
Dwellers in the same house, and leave a small rug. 4. A 
good-natured sprite, and leave to possess. 5. Commis- 
sions, and leave hastened. 6. Wrinkle, and leave a colored 
fluid. 7. Precisely, and leave to perform. 8. Detained, 
and leave to deposit. 9. Omens, and leave a great clamor. 
10. Merchants, and leave a beverage. 11. A seaport of 
France and leave at a distance, but within view. 

When the foregoing words have been rightly beheaded 
and curtailed, the initials of the remaining three-letter 
words will spell a national holiday. 



(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

# * * Tf 

I. Upper, Left-hand Square: 1. A laborer. 2. At 
a distance. 3. To mention. 4. Pulled. 

II. Upper, Right-hand Square : 1. A body of water. 
2. Among. 3. A toy. 4. A happy place. 

III. Central Square: i. Whither. 2. The nether 
world of classic mythology. 3. A public Command. 4. 
The right-hand page of a book. 5. To impede or bar. 

IV. Lower Left-hand Square: i. In this place. 2. 
Black. 3. A highway. 4. Concludes. 

V. Lower Right-hand Square: i. A tropical tree. 
2. A continent. 3. A wild animal. 4. A great number. 






"You never know how much 
beauty there is in your skin un- 
til PEARS' has brought it out." 

The skin is naturally beau- 
tiful. Look at the skin of a 
child. It is nearly always fair 
and soft and of a delicate 
roseate tint. But neglect and 
the use of bad soaps, often 
drive away this daintiness. 

How different it is when 
PEARS' is used! By its daily 
use the beauty of the skin is 
preserved in its original fresh- 
ness from infancy to old age. 

The most economical 
as well as the best. 

'A R S' 

Produces natural beauty 
by natural means. 


" A 11 rights secured." 

May 1908 




i5mi[HDui5 mm. 




Flowers here and flowers there, 
Flowers nodding everywhere, 
Some are large and some are small, 
Some are short and some are tall. 

In the sunshine, in the shade, 

In the meadow, in the glade, 

Through the long, bright, summer hours, 

Smiling everywhere are flowers. 


No. i. A list of those whose work would have been used had space 

No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement. 


Elizabeth C. Walton 
Agnes M. Miall 
Evelin Silvers 
Emily Holmes 
Elizabeth Crawford 
Lucile Thorne 
Ruth Conkey 
Ruth M. Peters 
E. Babette Deutsch 
Edith Sumner Sloane 
Carol Thompson 
Marian Stabler 
Robert Hillyer 
Gladys Nelson 
Annie Laurie Hillyer 
Ethel B. Youngs 
Knowles Entrekin 
Miriam Noll 
Arthur J. Kramer 
Marjorie S. Harrington 
Dorothy Kerr Floyd 
Aileen Hyland 
Katharine Rutan 

William B. Pressey 
Rachel Stone 
Eleanor Sickles 
Elizabeth Page James 
Miriam Thompson 
Susie Marie Williams 
Kathleen A. Burgess 
Alice Brabant 
Elizabeth Toof 
Emmeline Bradshaw 
Christine Fleisher 
Kennard Weddell 


Elinor Z. Gittleson 
Elizabeth B. French 
Sheelah Evelyn Wood 
Doris F. Halman 
Katherine Donovan 
E. Gertrude Close 
Katherine Reeves 

Rhena Frances Howe 
Agnes I. Prizer 
Jean Allen 
Millie Bingham Hess 


Laura Moench 
Jessie Morris 
Dorothy Griggs 
Ruth Harvey Reboul 
Marjorie S. Hay man 
Marguerite Weed 
James P. Casey 
Nellie Hagan 
Thoda Cockroft 
Anita Lynch 
James Boyd Hunter 
Marie Kahn 
Arlina Eisenmenger 
Pauline Birmingham 
Stella Andersen 
Miriam Sears 
Claire Vial 
Lucretia Mackensie 
Theodosia Skinner 
Carrie Blake 
Dorothy Elaine Lucas 
Beatrice H. Cook 
Lucy E. Fancher 

Fanny Steward 

Edward R.' Collier 
Frances Farish 
Alma J. Herzfeld 
Dorothy Black 
Caroline Elizabeth 

Alice Ruth Cranch 
Catherine Van Cook 
Katherine Kahn 
Elizabeth S. Allen 
Helen M. Peck 
Carol Arkins 
Marian P. Luce 
Chrystine Wagner 
Mildred Lillibridge 
Irma A. Hill 
Margery S. Amory 
Leila Kane Ormsby 
Ethel Warren Kidder 
Ruth Mann 
Ruth Adams 
Elizabeth Horr 
Adele L. Alfke 
Katherine V. Smith 
Marion Lincoln Hussey 
George Rollin Hippard, 



Janie Morgan 
Elizabeth R. Hirsh 
Jean Louise Holcombe 
Raymond E. Ashley 
Dorothy T. Hollister 
Gladys M. Flitcroft 

Eleanor Scott Smith 
Ethel L. Blood 
M. Lydia Barrette 
Eleanor M. Rutty 
Margaret Budd 
Rachel McN. Talbott 
Ruth Alden Adams 
Louis Gilbert 

Dorothy Buell 
Marjorie Rossiter 
Florence M. Ward 
Katheiine Brown 
Helen Page 
Dorothy C. Seligman 
Lillian Kahan 
Winifred Jenne 
Mildred White 
Jack Whittenberg 
Helen Jervis 
Therese Born 
Katharyn Hollister 
Mabel Moores 
Frances A. Whetsler 
Valerie C. Greene 
Amy Bradish Johnson 
Arthur N. Eagles, Jr. 
Grace F. Woods 
Margaret Sherman 
Edna Anderson 
William Boulton Dixon 
Emily F. Benson 
Catharine H. Striker 
Eva Ingersoll Brown 
Barbara Cheney 
Marguerite Magruder 
Dorothy Story Stott 
Winifred E. E. Bluck 
Eleanor S. Halsey 
Emily Tapscott Clark 
Helen Davenport 

Jean Russell 
Ella M. Rankin 
Eleanire Myers 
Fread M. Harrison 
Marie Demetre 
Helen Emerson 

Dorothy George 
Rosalie Waters 
Ruth Merritt Erdman 
Esther E. Galbraith 
Claire McGonneH 
Ellen B. Steel 
Winifred Eleanor 

Lorraine Voorhees 
Alice Denny 
Mildred Parry 
William Fowler 

Elizabeth Pilsbry 
Ellen Moore Howison 
Helen Mowat 
Margaret G. Janke 
Josephine P. Keene 
Ida C. KHne 
Marguerite Falke 
Katharine Laidlow 
Kathleen Tully 
Harriet James Hite 
John C. Farrar 
Elsa Montgomery 
Ruth A. Staub 
Merrill Anderson 
Margaret Ware Thayer 
Margaret Ritsher 
Marie Le Tournens 
Franklin Warren 

Doris Kent 
Eleanor Agusta 

Evelyn Collner 
Charlotte Fisher 
Margaret Isabel Day 
William Fairbank 

Fritz Korb 
Lucile Luttrell 
Ruth Livington 


Rhea G. Searles 
Alfred B. Karet 
Philip Sherman 
Nina J. Hansell 
Margaret Alban 

Judith S. Finch 
Charles S. Lerch 
Elizabeth B. French 
Elizabeth McClintock 
Edna Goodrich 
Elsa Anna Synnestvedt 
Agnes M. Walter 
Sarah Cecilia 

Margery Durbrow 
Elizabeth Underhill 
Harry J. Harding 
Ruth" E. Fitts 
Florence M. Moote 
Vincent Stroop 
Marjorie F. Pratt 
Velma M. Jolly 
Ora V. Swain 
Margaret E. Howard 
Phyllis Tomlinson 
Edith Solis Cohen 
Miriam McKee 

Margaret H. Johnson 
lone Nesson 
Stanley B. Jones 
Henriette Lambdin 
Delia E. Arnstein 
Isabella H. Smith 
Dorothy Steele 
Ralph Perry 
Eleanor Mead 
Ida F. Parfitt 
Bruce T. Simonds 
Mildred Gardner 
Mabel Moores 
Ethel Emery 
Gwendolyn Forthing- 

Sylvia Atwater 
Bessie R. Gregory 
Christine Ricker 
Mary Marshall Smith. 
Dora V. Swain 
Jeanne M. Keller 
Jeannette Miller 
Edith Elliott 
Aileen Hand 
Mary Burnett 
Christine R. Baker 
Harriet Smith 
Florence Edith Dawson 
Margaret Hubbell 
Orritt Stumberg 
Margaret Endsley 
Pearl Lukens 
Thomas J. Francis 
Margaret Barrette 
Eva M. Sanford 
Helen P. Hoornbeek 
Marian Gill 
Hume M. Frost 
Mildred Best 
Marjorie Reid 
Harold F. Foster 
Katharine Beach 
Dorothy Quick 
Helen Crenshaw 
Alice B. Roberts 
Edith C. Davis 
Anna V. Clark 
Sylvia Holt 
Dorothy Coleman 
Mohlon Schnaeke 
Louise Harrington 
Lilian Cheney 
Caroline Frost 
Wm. Bartolett Byers- 
Eugenia Pratt 


Katharine Dulcebella. 


"Diamond Dyes have been so helpful" 

"I wish I had kept track of how much Diamond Dyes save me a year. I always want 
to wear silk stockings at parties, etc.; Diamond Dyes make it possible. I watch for sales 
of shop-soiled silk stockings, and get such bargains, and then dye them. There are many 
other ways that I save money with Diamond Dyes, and your Diamond Dye Annual has been 
most helpful." Emma E. S. Bogardus, San Francisco 

There are no "Just-as-good" Dyes 

Don't be fooled into buying any substitute for Diamond Dyes. There is no other "just- 
as-good." There are plenty of inferior dyes, but only one standard dye — Diamond Dyes. 

Important Facts About Goods to be Dyed : 

The most important thing in connection with dyeing is to be sure you get the real Diamond Dyes. 

Another very important thing is to be sure that you get the £i?td of Diamond Dyes that is adapted to the article you 
intend to dye. 

Beware of substitutes for Diamond Dyes. There are many of them. These substitutes will appeal to you with such false 
claims as " A New Discovery "_pi " An Improvement on the Old Kind." Then the " New Discovery " or the '* Improvement " 
is put forward as *' One Dye for all Material," Wool, Silk or Cotton. We want you to know that when anyone makes such a 
claim he is trying to sell you an imitation of our Dye for Cotton, Linen and Mixed Goods. Mixed Goods are most frequently 
Wool and Cotton combined. If our Diamond Dyes for Cotton, Linen and Mixed Goods will color these materials when they 
are together, it is self-evident that they will color them separately. 

We make a Special Dye for Wool and Silk because Cotton and Linen (vegetable material) and Mixed Goods (in which veg- 
etable material generally predominates) are hard fibers and take up a dye slowly, while Wool and Silk (animal material) are soft 
fibers and take up the dye quickly. In making a dye to color Cotton or Linen (vegetable material) or Mixed t Goods (in 
which vegetable material generally predominates), a concession must always be made to the vegetable material. 

No dye that will color Cotton or Linen (vegetable material) will give the same rich shade on Wool or Silk (animal material) 
that is obtained by the use of our Special Wool Dye. 

Diamond Dyes are anxious for your success the first time you use them. This means your addition to the vast number of 
women who are regular users of Diamond Dyes. When dyeing Cotton, Linen or Mixed Goods, or when you are in doubt about 
the material, be sure to ask for Diamond Dyes for cotton. If you are dyeing Wool or Silk ask for Diamond Dyes/or ivooL 
fli^mnnH n v . Anmiol I?** a a Send your name and address (be sure to mention your dealer's name and tell us 
LMciinuntl Hye Annual r re© whether he sells Diamond Dyes), and we will send you a copy ot the famous Dia- 
mond Dye Annual, a copy of the Direction Book, and 36 samples of dyed cloth, all FREE. Address 


Diamond Dyes are the Standard. Imitations Prove It. 



Gladys Memminger 

Edwina Spear 

Margaret Rhodes 

Mary Klauder 

Helen C. Otis 

Elizabeth Evans 

Helen Parfitt 

Eleanor B. Watt 

Elizabeth Alward 

Horace S. Dawson 

George W. Hall 

Ruth C. Brockington 

Grace Tuttle 

Margaret Truesdell 

Helen A. Ross 

Kathleen Buchanan 

Herbert Ross 

Frances Moyer Ross 

Dorothy C. Starr 

Stephen Phelps 

Kathryn I. Wellman 

Mildred Schreiber 

Ben E. Ward, Jr. 

Alma Ward 

Flora Hollingsworth 

Lucia E. Halstead 

E. Allena Champlin 

Bessie B. Styron 

Mary A.' Jones 

Evelyn Buchanan 

Percy Bluemlein 

Katherine S. Curtis 

Rena T. Kellner 

Leonie Nathan 
Sybil Emerson 
Dorothy Barnes Loye 
Marjone E. Chase 
Mina Louise Winslow 
Helen E. Fernald 
Nannie R. Hull 
Henrietta Havens 
Dorman Smith 

Hazel Colburn 
Margaret Armstrong 
Margaret Osborne 
Helen G. Seymour 
E. Marie Lorimer 
Eunice G. Hussey 
Gladys Nolan 
Catherine Snell 
Eleanor Louise Acker 
Eugenia G. Baker 
Jessica Wagar 
Elizabeth Chippendale 
Elizabeth Cockle 
Lucy Otis Bruggerhof 
Mabelle A. Ewing 
Winifred Davidson 
Doris Howland 
Priscella Bohlen 
Louis Leslie Byer 
Gladys Cruikshank 
Vera Hill 
Helen C. Hendrie 
Frances H. Burt 
Felicity Askew 
George C. Papazian 
Alice Bothwell 
Charlotte Overell 
Chas. Ray McCallum 
Walter Kowalsky 
Hester G. Gibson 
Helen Louise Walker 
David Reid 
Emery B. Poor 


Margaret E. Nicolson 
Katharyn Wood 
Elbert Moore' 
Margherita W. Wood 
Edith Thorpe 
Goan Clowes 
Olive Simpson 
Dorothy Howland 

Florence R. Hodges 
Herschel M. Colbert 
Margaret Kempton 
Beatrice Darling 
Margaret Lantz Daniell 
Susie Gaillard 
Lydia C. Gibson 
Max Silverstein 
Gladys Smith 
Eunice L. Hone 
Grace Garland 
Dorothy I. Applegate 
Vera Steele 
Durant Simonds 

Lavinia James 
Helen Underwood 
Thomas Brown 
Edwin L. 

Marion Strausbaugh 
Louise Jenkins 
Theresa R. Robbins 
Virginia Brown 
Maria Bullitt 
Claire Wilcox 
Rosalea M. McCready 
Martha Noll 
Bertha Hansen 
Mabel Clarke 
Adelaide Werner 
Gertrude Jacobs 
Ella Lindblad 
Helen H. Ames 
Bessie Joseph 
Prudence Ross 
Marshall B. Cutler 
Charles W. Horr 
Margaret J. Marshall 
Frances Hampton 

Muriel W. Hannah 
Margaret Hurd 
Alice Mason 
M argare* J ones 
Eunice S. Williams 
Anne M. Heard 
Joyce Armstrong 
William H. Wheeler 
Edna Louis Taggart 
Charlotte P. Smith 
Wilson H. Roads 

Decie Merwin 
Edwin Walters 
Doris Ellis 
Helen Baker 
Lilla G. Work 
Grace Stanley Byrne 
Marjorie Benson 
Louise Bateman 
Dorothy Louise Dade 
Dorothy Whelpley 
Robert B. Keator 
Alice Tinkler 
Marie Louise Mohr 
Clara M. Titcomb 
Rachel R. Phelan 
Dorothy Potter 
Helen B. Walcott 
George H. Jenkins, Jr. 
Lawrence R. Boyd 
Leven Cooper Allen, J r. 
Jeanne Jacoby 
N. Osgood Fanning, Jr. 
Myra Treat 
Lester Pearce 
Mary Winegardner 
Margaret Grandgent 
John P. Buchanan 
Marguerite Gertrude 

Verna Douney 
Charles Myer 
Otto Haupt 
Kenton Woodworth 

Irwin Johannesen 
Dorothy E. Bridge 
Waldron Faulkner 
Louis Faulkner 
Marion Frances Smith 
S. R. Benson 
Jack Hopkins 
Leonora Howartli 
Elenor Clark 
Elizabeth Wollv ' 
Laura M. Balfe 
Edna L. Crane 
May Elsas 
Ruth Tilhurst 
Beatrice Starr 

Frances Woodworth 

Catherine Hay Jones 
S. Joseph 

Herbert Warden, ]r. 
Ruth Ailing 
Marion Stewart 
Kenneth Safford 

Margaret Foster 
Fernando Fancher 
Natalie H. Plough 
Carol C. Brockington 
Dora Grey 
Raymond Moore 
Louise Alexandra 

Honor Gallsworthy 
Gertrude Brown Nic- 


Dorothy Foster 
Ward Van Alstyne 
Dorothy D. Benton 
Helen Bruggerhof 


No. ioio^ "Two Chums of St. Nick." Emily Beecher, President; 
Margaret Fisher, Secretary and Treasurer ; three members. 

No. 1020. "The Mohawk Council." Walter Ripley, President; 
Kent Gamble, Vice-President; M. B. Nelson, Secretary; Florence 
Tanny, Treasurer ; twenty-one members. 

1021. " Constane Amical." Marion E. Watson, President; Jennie 
E. Evans, Vice-President; Florence M. Coleman, Secretary; five 

1022. Hickory Chapter. Charles H. Gould, President: Donald B. 
Maynard, Secretary ; four members. 

1023. Durfee Chapter. Marguerite Landon, President ; Elva John- 
son, Secretary ; thirty-five members. 

1024. "F. F. C." Jane Singer, President; Lettie Robinson, Sec- 
retary ; four members. 

1025. " K . B. C." Jameson Lewis, President; Leonard C. Besson, 
Secretary; six members. 

1026. Swastika Canoe Club. Shannock Warnick, President ; 
Edward B. Molaneux, Secretary; three members. 

1027. William Mellick, President; Harry F. Harding, Secretary; 
six members. 


Muriel S. Falk 
Catherine Brandenbur 
Lyle Saxon 
Dorothy L. Greene 
Hazel Gtldersleeve 
Alfred C. Redfield 
Helen L. K. Porter 
Susan J. Appleton 
Hildegarde Angell 
Charles E. Ames 
Louise Fitz 

Jane Richmond Singe 
Faye Northey 
John H. Janney 
Amy Peabody 


Dorothy B. Almy 
Clara N. Means 
Frances M. Chaffee 
Ada Wallace 
Alice Almy 
Eva M. Gray 
Robert L. Rankin 
Helen Maud Macklin 
Elise F. Stern 
Dickinson W. Rich- 
ards, Jr. 
Elise Sage 

Emilie O. Wagner 
Madison P. Dyer 
Herman P. Miller 
Samuel N. Hamaford 
Elizabeth Wight 
Joanna L. Lloyd 
Corbin D. Lewis 
Simon Cohen 
Constance Blake 
Vivian Tompkins 
Paul Jones, Jr. 
r Louise B. Hickox 
Constance E. Dowd 
William P. Harris, Jr. 
Ellen Low Mills 
Kate Haven 
Elinor Van Dyke 
P. Andrews 
Leslie J. Whitehead 
John Wentworth 
John Ford 
Frederick L. Browne 
Wallace Dunn 
Olavia Ruth 

Esther Hanson 
James Albert Fink 

E. Adelaide Hahn 

Althea B. Morton 
Jane J. Pidgeon 
Cecile Leone 

Louis Werner, Jr. 
Alice Knowles 
Josephine L. Rantonl 
Arthur Minot Reed 
Walter C. Strickland 
Marcellite Watson 
Robert L. Baldwin 
Frances Bosanquet 
Arthur Ainsworth 
Elisabeth Maclay 
Maud Mallett 


Fay Hull 

Robt. W Speir, Jr. 
Katharine Keen 
Ruth S. Coleman 
Morton S. Whitelnll 
Francis D. Perkins 
Ruth Burnett 
Margaret Pierce 
Frederica Atwood 
Robert J. Hogan 
Nelson S. Bushnell 
Eleanor Drain 


Names entitled to place on the Roll of Honor are sometimes 
omitted because they are illegibly written. 




An Overloaded Ship 

Makes slow headway against the heaving, rolling sea. 

It 's the same with the man who overloads his system with a mass of heavy, 
indigestible food. 

It means a heavy, foggy brain and a tired, sleepy feeling when you ought to 
be making "things hum " — skimming along on the high tide to success. 

Are you going to remain in the slow-going "Freighter" class, or would you 
prefer to be one of the " Ocean Greyhounds " ? 

Change your food. Try 


with rich cream, and get energy and speed ! 
"There's a Reason." 

Postum Cereal Company, Limited, Battle Creek, Michigan, U. S. A. 



THE St. Nicholas welcomes requests for informa- 
tion from readers of St. Nicholas. Many of the 
questions asked are such as cannot be gained from a 
study of the catalogue and the answers to them are valu- 
able to all readers. There are others, however, which it 
is much better that the questioner find out for himself, 
such, for instance, as those contained in a letter just re- 
ceived in which the writer says : " I have been given a 
great number of stamps for a collection which I do not 
know how to place. I wish you would tell me." Then 
follows a more or less accurate description of a large 
number of stamps. It is impossible to answer such a 
communication correctly, but the writer of the letter 
does not know that his descriptions are imperfect and 
he is seeking information which he ought to have and 
must get in order to a correct understanding of his 
stamps. All of this will be found in a standard cata- 
logue which is as necessary as an album if one would 
collect understandingly. An excellent method of us- 
ing a catalogue is to make of it a check list whereby 
one can see at a glance what stamps are contained in 
the album. This will save too frequent a turning of 
the pages of the album and be a means of knowing 
what stamps one has when the album is not at hand. 
Many collectors make such a check list by the use of a 
dash opposite the catalogue number and also a line 
under or around the price, by this means showing 
whether the stamp is used or unused. In cases where 
there are minor varieties a dash may also be placed 
before the small letter used to denote such variations. 
The catalogue thus marked may be carried with one to 
society meetings or other places where stamps are 
liable to be offered for sale or exchange. Thus one 
has a means of knowing what stamps one possesses 
and what are required for the collection. 


IT would be a good thing for young collectors, living 
in one place, to form a stamp society or club, mainly 
for the purpose of securing exchanges of stamps. A 
method of exchange may be arranged in a local society 
which will be quite satisfactory. Let each member 
who wishes to participate in exchanges hand to a duly 
elected exchange manager some sheets of stamps 
marked with the catalogue prices. The exchange 
manager credits each one three fourths, or more, of 
the value of the stamps. This amount, those making 
the sheets, may take for their collections from sheets 
turned in by others, the difference between the full 
catalogue value and the allowance made to each partici- 
pant serves to pay the exchange manager for his time 
and also to meet small losses which occur. 

A local society is also a good thing to keep up and 
develop the interest in collecting. Boys' clubs are 
formed everywhere and if this is done with stamp col- 
lecting as an object to hold them together the clubs are 
more permanent and the value of the association is 
greater than when the object is one of less importance. 
Those who live in cities and large towns always know 
other collectors and the opportunity for forming a so- 
ciety is all that is necessary. Those collectors who 
get together a few of their friends in this way always 
find success enough in it to warrant the continuance 
and development of the association. This is the way 
in which all the large societies of the country have 
started and developed. 



AS one looks over the pages of the catalogue the high 
. prices which have been attained by certain stamps 
which were originally very common causes one to ask 
the reasons for such values. This is nothing but the 
demand for the particular stamps combined with the 
fact that their original cheapness caused very many of 
them to be destroyed. The future of collecting will be 
similar to the past. Stamps which now are very com- 
mon will become, first, scarce, and then rare. It is- 
worth noting that in almost every issue and among 
these some of the oldest, there are still stamps that are 
common. Open the catalogue, for instance, to such a 
country as Spain. Looking at the first issues from 
1850 to i860 one sees among the used stamps those 
which are priced all the way from four cents to ore 
hundred and twenty-five dollars and in every issue there is 
a cheap stamp as well as dear ones. Thus any collector 
may have specimens of all the different types, for 
really it makes very little difference as far as the looks 
of a stamp is concerned, whether it is printed in what 
is called rose or the red of the catalogue, whether the 
denomination is six cuartos or two reals. The same 
thing will be found all through the catalogue so that 
any collector does not need to despair of forming a 
representative collection. 


THERE are some countries which more than others 
have stamps the study of which is interesting. 
Take, for instance, such a country as Siam. The 
curious characters and figures which are found upon 
many of its issues make a collection of the stamps ex- 
tremely attractive. One finds also among the common 
varieties so many little points of difference that are 
worth noting such as the sizes and the forms of sur- 
charges, the presence or absence of periods or letters 
that interest is aroused to the highest pitch. 

CT^HE readers of St. Nicholas send in some very 
X good questions. Here is one of particular in- 
terest : When the gum is cracking a stamp how can it 
be removed successfully? Do not drop the stamp into 
water unless you are sure that the color is fast. If it is, 
cold water will answer every purpose. Hot water 
sometimes changes the shade of a stamp a trifle when 
cold will not. If the color of the stamp is not 
fast, it may be laid face down on dry blotting paper and 
wet blotting paper applied to the back. Thus gum 
may be removed easily in a few moments. Be careful 
to have clean blotting paper. Stamps are often injured 
by the use of inky pads. C.The word " Specimen " 
printed on certain department stamps of the United 
States indicates that they were sold- or given away by 
the government as specimens and were not intended to 
be used for the forwarding of department mail. C.Gen- 
erally speaking, imperforate stamps are scarcer than 
the same stamps perforated. The reason of this is, in 
the first place, that many stamps are issued imperforate 
for a short time only and the perforated stamp of 
similar kind is used for many years. In other cases, 
the imperforate stamps are those which were issued 
long ago and very few of them have been preserved. 
CProofs of stamps of foreign countries are very 
interesting but they are not considered to be of great 
value, as there are few who collect them. 





1AQ different, including 
■ IUO new Panama, old 

Chile, Japan, curious Turkey, scarce Paraguay, 
Philippines, Costa Rica, West Australia, several un- 
used, some picture stamps, etc., all for 10c. Big list 
and copy of monthly paper free. Approval sheets, 
50% commission. 
SCOTT STAMP & COIN CO., 18 East 23d St., New York 


A little pamphlet giving the pleasure and instruction 
of stamp collecting, together with our 1908 Price 
List and fifty (50) varieties of foreign stamps to start 

-§ -i f? 6famn6 a " different, including 8 unused Picto- 
J-Ji-V ijialllJJS rial, and used from all quarters of the 
globe, roc. 40 Page Album, 5c. 1000 hinges, 5c. Approval 
sheets also sent, 50 per cent, commission. 

New England Stamp Co., 43 Washington Bldg., Boston. 

Send one dollar as evidence of good faith, 
and we will send a collection of between 500 
and 600 different genuine foreign stamps, 
priced by catalogue over $10.00, at 75% disc. 

A North Borneo 4 cent monkey stamp (or 
Labuan if preferred) given free to all who 
answer this advertisement, and request 
stamps to be submitted on approval. 

Price list of stamp bargains and our paper 
issued for instruction of collectors, free. 

R.F.D No. 20 St. Louis, Mo. 

R A Dfi A I IV C Each set 5 cts— 10 Luxemburg; 8 Fin- 
Dr\l\.*J^ll^«-' ]ant j. 20 Sweden; 4 Labuan; 8 Costa 
Rica; ia Porto Rico; 7 Dutch Indies. Lists of 5000 low-priced 
stampsfree. CHAMBERS STAMP CO., 

111 Q Nassau Street, New York City. 

STAMPS. We give FREE 15 all different Canadians, 10 India 
and catalogue Free for names, address of two stamp collectors 
and 2 cents postage. Special Offers, no two alike, 40 Japan 
5C 50 Spain 11c, 100 U. S. 20c, 200 Foreign 10c, 50 Australia 9c, 
10 Paraguay 7c, 10 Uruguay 6c, 17 Mexico 10c. 6 Mauritius 4c, 4 
Congo 5c. Agents Wanted, 50% commission. 50 Page List Free. 
.11 UiKS STAMP COMPANY, Dept. N, Toronto, Canada. 

Spi« B el»w Cost. 4Foochow, 5c.,6Servia, 5c, 5 Bolivia, 6c, 5 Port 
OC15 Said, 7c, 10 Jamaica, ioc, 50 different unused foreign, 15c. 
Write for Complete List. The Victor Stamp Co., Norwood, Ohio. 

VARIETIES URUGUAY FREE with trial approval 
sheets. F.E.THQRP Norwich N.Y. 

FRFF IO Canadian stamps and Album has 480 spaces, for 
* .^Hj*j the names of two collectors and 3c. postage. 20 var. 
Cuba unused, 12c. D. CROWELL STAMP CO. , Toledo, O. 

100 all different Venezuela, Uruguay, 
Paraguay, Peru, Japan, Mexico, ./» 


Cuba, Philippines, India, etc., with album, only] 

1000 FINELY MIXED 20c. Large album 30c. 1000 

hinges 8c, Agents wanted, 50%. New listfree, 

C.A. Stegman, 5941 CoteBrillianteAve.,St. Louis, Mo. 


I n Ca Eh the names of several stamp collectors and return 
postage. 1000 foreign, 14c; 30 diff. Sweden, ioc; 12 diff. 
Austria, 4c. Catalog pricing all stamps, 10c; 6diff. China, ioc. 
Write for our List of DEALERS' OUTFITS, and other Lists. 
TIFFIN STAMP CO., Sta. "A," 116 a, St., Columbus, O. 

STA M PS 225 ass't select, inch, Columbia, Malay, 
Peru, etc. 5c. 50 diff. incl. Comoro, Australia 
(Swan), Labuan and nice Album, 5c. 1000 good Mix. 
15c. Agts. wtd. 50 per ct. 112 p. List of 1200 Sets. 
Pkts. and $1 worth of Coupons Free. We Buy 
Stamps. E. J. Schuster €0. , Dept. 1, St. Louis, Mo. 


STAMP WEEKLY, the largest, best printed and best illustrated 
weekly stamp paper in the world. We give each new 6 months' 
subscriber a nice stamp collection cat. value $3.75 FREE. Address 
THE REDF1ELD PUB. CO., 759 Main Street, Smethport, Pa. 


start you with Stamp Album, a Collection of 11 50 fine 
foreign Stamps, catalogued nearly $12.00, incl. about 
200 var. from many strange countries like Rhodesia, 
China, Congo, etc. LIST and $i.ooCoupons FREE 
We buy Stamps ! C. E. HCSSD1AN CO. , Dept. N, St. Louis, Wo. 

STAMP COLLECTORS interested in British Colonial 
stamps of the highest quality, the best stamp magazine, or the 
finest album, should send for our circulars. No approval sheets. 
Largest stock of fine Colonials in the United States. 

Colonial Stamp Co., 953 E. 53d St., Chicago 

Spins 5 Minutes 

"The Ideal Ball-bearing Top" 

The smallest child can spin it and there is no spring 
nor string to wind up. ■ Nothing about it to break 
nor wear out. Beautifully B nickel-plated; with rubber 
tire that prevents injury ■] to hands or furniture. 

Each top packed in box with 6 
ger while top is spinning; makes 

Buy of 



colored disks. A touch of the fin- 
beautiful color combinations. 

or Send us 


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DENIS0N MFG. CO. 23d St., New York City 

Endless amusement and entertainment for a child . 

We Ship on Approval 

'without a cent deposit, prepay the freight and allow 
10 DAYS FREE TRIAL on every bicycle. IT ONLY 
COSTS one cent to learn our unheard of prices and 
marvelous offers on highest grade 1908 models. 


one at any price until you write for our new large Art 
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sample bicycle going to your town. 
pinCD AHFIiTQ everywhere are making big 
niUkll HUCII I O money exhibiting and selling 
our bicycles. We Sell cheaper than any other factory. 

Tires, Coaster-Brakes, single wheels, parts, repairs 
and sundries at half usual prices. Do Not Wait; 
write today for our latest special offer. 



The place to look for pets for your children is 

Oradell, New Jersey. It is also a good place to 
board the pets you have if you can not take them 
with you this summer. Spring opening for benefit 
of patrons Saturday, May 23. Write for particulars. 





When Mennen's was first Intro- 
duced it made a hit immediately, 
and was then and is now specially 
recommended b y physicians 
everywhere as perfectly pure 
and safe. It has proven a sum- 
mer necessity, a boon for comfort 
of old and young. 




prevents and relieves Chap- 
ping, Chafing, Prickly 
Heat. Sunburn, and all skin 
troubles of summer. After 
bathing and shaving it is 
delightful; in the nursery, 

For your protection the 
genuine is put up in non- 
reflllable boxes — the "Box 
that I.OX," with Mennen's 
face on top. Guaranteed un- 
der the Food and Drugs 
Act, June 80, 1906. Serial No. 
1642. Sold everywhere, or 
by mail 25 cents. Sample /<j 
free. /y 

Oerhard Mennen Co. 
Newark, N. J. 

Try Mennen's Violet (Borated) 
Talcum Toilet Powder — it has the 
scent of fresh-cut Parma Violets. 


St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 79. 

Time to hand in answers is up May 23. Prizes awarded in July number. 

Special Notice: This competition is open 
freely to all who may .desire to compete, without 
charge or consideration of any kind. Prospec- 
tive contestants need not be subscribers for St. 
Nicholas in order to compete for the prizes 
offered. See requirements as to age and former 
prize-winning below. 

The days during which you will be at work on 
this competition, No. 79, will be those wherein 
you are looking back upon a school-year nearly 
done, and forward to a vacation that is just 
knocking at the door. Since it is much pleasanter 
to look forward than to be retrospective, or, to 
translate the Latin roots, "back-looking," we 
shall try to make No. 79 a competition that will 
keep you in mind of the long summer days that 
are to be spent in rest, relaxation, and retirement 
to country scenes. Then, if you win a prize, it 
will come to you in July, and be an added vaca- 
tion pleasure. Won't that be pleasant? And if 
you don't win a prize, why, it will be vacation 
anyway ! 

We shall suppose that a lot of advertising 
firms and advertised articles went off to take a 
vacation picnic, and were enjoying their outing* 
very greatly, being at an outdoor meal in the 
woods, when, suddenly, the clouds gathered 
darkly overhead and there was every sign of a 
violent thunderstorm. At once the whole party 
rushed for the four automobiles that had brought 
them to the picnic-grounds, piled in, helter- 
skelter, and at full speed made for home. But 
when they reached shelter it was discovered that 
the loads were badly mixed up. And when they 
tried to get themselves in proper order once more 
this is the result : 

1. Copley. Huyler's Soap Machine. 

2. Peter Swift's Calox Suspenders. 

3. Libby's Ideal Soap Tablets. 

4. Mennen's Shredded Ginger Trust. 

5. Durkee's Tar Talking Powder. 

6. Pear's Safety Dressing Socks 

7. Bankers Sanitol Chocolate Ale. 

8. Dioxogen Diamond Pen Company. 

9. Whitman Sugar Cereal Chiclets. 

10. Crystal Cycle Club Chimneys. 

11. Language-Fountain Jap-Method. 

12. Pond's Premium Phone Pickles. 

13. Packer's President Postum Prints. 

14. Miniature Macbeth Mead Company. 

15. Victor Ivory Domino Dyes. 

16. Sapolio Salad Soap Extract. 

17. Gala Hand Ham Razor. 

18. Fairy Cliquot Waterman Wheat. 

19. Gillette Talcum lac Soap. 

20. Shawknit a- licorice Tools. 

You will see that there are twenty groups of 
four names or words each, making eighty in all. 
But the' twenty groups, though each has a famil- 
iar sound, certainly are not correctly arranged. 

t 2 See also 

We want them separated into the eighty words 
or names, and then put together again, correctly. 
If you can put the pieces together as they should 
be, you will make a correct list. The correct 
list must contain : 

Thirty-four (34) items, of which four (4) are 
single words; one is a single word divided by 
hyphens into three syllables ; two consist of four 
words each ; eleven consist of three words each ; 
sixteen of two words each. In the list are the 
names of two companies. 

Please find these and put them in alphabetical 

For the best answers received in this competi- 
tion the following prizes will be awarded : 

One First Prize of $5. 
Two Second Prizes of $3 each. 
Three Third Prizes of $2 each. 
Ten Fourth Prizes of $1 each. 

The following are the conditions of the com- 
petition : 

1. Any one under 18 years of age may compete for a 
higher prize than he or she has already won in the Adver- 
tising Competitions. See special notice above. 

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your paper, «give 
name, age, address, and the number of this competition 
(79). Judges prefer paper to be not larger than 12 x 12 

3. Submit answers by May 25, 1908. Use ink. Write 
on one side of paper. Do not inclose stamps. Fasten 
your pages together at the upper left-hand corner. 

4. Do not inclose request for League badges or circu- 
lars. Write separately for these if you wish them, address- 

5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if you wish 
to win prizes. 

6. Address answers : Advertising Competition No. 79, 
St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York, N. Y. 

Report on Advertising Competition No. 77 

Some previous competitions have been difficult to 
judge, but No. 77 was in some respects the worst 
of all. The trouble came from the impossibility 
of limiting the field. Our competitors found 
many more names than the maker of the puzzle 
thought to be in it, and yet the extra names of 
articles differed in different lists. 

As we promised to give credit for extra names, 
all these had to be carefully considered and al- 
lowed for. But first we required that the twelve 
names should be found according to the condi- 
tions — that is, there should be twelve "advertised 
articles named by at least two words, or a name 
and a word." 

These twelve were in alphabetical order: 
Baker's Cocoa, Benger's Food, Hand Sapolio, 
Ivory Soap, Mellin's Food, Mennen's Talcum 
Powder, Pears' Soap, Peter's Chocolate, Pond's 

page 14. , 


Let the Children Kodak 

And then, in turn, Kodak the children. There's pleasure 
and instruction, — there's education it taking the pictures, 
there's a constantly growing charm in the pictures themselves. 
And by the Kodak system picture taking is perfectly 
simple, whether one merely presses the button and lets 
another do the rest or whether to the delights of picture 
taking be added the subtle delights of picture making — the 
developing and printing and enlarging. There is now no 
dark-room for any part of Kodak work. The Kodak has 
removed most of the opportunities for making mistakes. 

Kodaks, $5 to $100. Brownies, (they work like Kodaks) $1 to $12. 

Catalogue free at the 
dealers or by mail. 


ROCHESTER, N. Y., The Kodak Cits. 



Extract, Postum Cereal, Quaker Oats, Swift's 
Premium Hams. Now, in addition to these, a 
very large number out of the hundreds of an- 
swers contained Baker's Chocolate — which thus 
headed the list, making thirteen that appeared in 
al! the leading lists. 

Additional names that were found were Bates' 
Shoes, Best's Shoes, Larkin Chocolate, Cocoa, 
and Tea, Pond's Soap, Cailler's Cocoa, Shaker 
Salt, Evans Ale, Swift Soap, Ultra Shoes, Bottle- 
hot, Sanitas, Sanitol Talcum Powder, Pantasote, 
Maltine, Elite Shoes, Yankee Oats, Baker Motor, 
Bonnie Oats, Hood's Soap, Heide's Chocolate, 
S. L. Allen Sled, Century, — and even that is not 
a complete list of names and articles found by 
our brilliant investigators. 

Now there might be possible objections to some 
of these, but certainly they are entitled to credit 
as being "extras"; and so they were considered 
as adding to the merit of lists otherwise correct. 
This enabled the judges to pick out the six prize- 
winning lists entitled to more than a one-dollar 
prize. Then, for the last ten prizes there were 
some very close competitors, and where there 
was no other way of choosing, the judges al- 
lowed age to count, giving the preference to the 
younger competitors — as we are sure you older 
ones would wish to do. 

The lists were notable for correctness, as a 
rule; and this applies to neatness, punctuation, 
spelling, and all minor matters. But there is still 
a lamentably large number of you who will in- 
sist on writing "Pear's" instead of "Pears' Soap." 
Well — those who know better will continue to be 
ranked ahead of those who do not. The judges 
have to take notice of these trifling points, for 
otherwise you would all rank equally, and what 
could be done? Probably, if the competitions are 
continued into the next century, there will be a 
new generation of young Americans calmly call- 
ing it Pear's soap. Don't— please don't do it 
again! There is one of the judges, a cruel and 
relentless being, who remarks, when a competi- 
tion brings in hundreds and hundreds of an- 
swers (as No. yy did), "Oh, never mind! Pears' 
soap will settle most of them !" And the judge 
is usually right in the woeful prediction. 
"Mellen" for "Mellin" also appears every now 
and then, to some poor competitor's confusion. 

"Alphabetical order" is another thing that 
troubles you, and older persons as well, at times. 
Yet the more careful workers found no difficulty 
in seeing that "Baker's Chocolate" should pre- 
cede "Baker's Cocoa," simply because the two 
are precisely alike till you come to "h" and "o," 
and then "h" has the right to come before "o." 
One competitor put "Baker Motor" after these, 
but it should precede, since "m" comes before "s." 

We repeat again, these are trifles indeed; but 
we must take them into account when comparing 
lists otherwise equal. There is no other way. 
And the training in being accurate is worth — 
more than any prize. 

We thank you for the great care shown in this 
competition. Every month, it seems to us, there 
is a marked improvement in general excellence ; 
and we have no doubt that your work in all the 
St. Nicholas competitions goes to make your 
school work more excellent, as well as contribut- 
ing to your pleasure in out-of-school hours. 

We wish you could all be on the list of prize- 
winners, but we are sure that you find plenty of 
fun in the work, even if some other young Amer- 
ican does happen to give more time, more care, 
or more — something, to the work, and thereby 
carries off the blue-ribbon. 

These Advertising Competitions at least must 
make every competitor familiar with the goods 
and merchandize that are, month after month, 
being recommended to readers' notice by the 

Here is the 

One First Prize of Five Dollars : 

Elizabeth Crowe (12), 

Charleston, Illinois. 

Two Second Prizes of Three Dollars Each : 

J. A. Hitchcock (13), Pittsford, Vermont. 

Isabel D. Weaver (13), Evansville, Indiana. 
Three Third Prizes of Two Dollars Each : 

Edith S. Sloan (12), New York, N.Y. 

Robert Wolf (13), Cleveland, Ohio. 

Eraelyne Day (n), Paris, Texas. 
Ten Fourth Prizes of One Dollar Each : 

Catherine Mackenzie (14), Baddeck, Nova Scotia. 

Margaret Sedgwick Norton (12), Salisbury, Conn. 

Grace Ludlow (15), Rutherford, N.J. 

Doris R. Evans (14), St. Paul, Minn. 

Margaret McCuaig (n), Toronto, Canada. 

Edward B. Rogers (13), Lovingston, Virginia. 

Louise Jillson (16), Crete, Nebraska. 

Catherine Van Cook (12), Stapelton, N.Y. 

Julia E. Ruff (13), Washington, D. C. 

Ida E. Parfitt (13), Hastings, England. 

Richard A. May (n) 
Mamie Malloch (14) 
Adelaide Bartholf (14) 
Lucy F. Saylor (14) 
Eleanor Tucker (14) 
Kenneth Tapscott (15', 
Laura J. Griggs (15) 
Louise C. Brown (15) 
Marion L. Bradley (15) 
Marguerite Collins (15) 

Competitors whom former prize-winning prevented from win- 
ning prizes in Competition No. 77/ 

Robert L. Rankin (16) won $3 in No. 18; $2 in 

No. 41 ; $2 in No. 60. 
Herbert S. Bursley (n) won $3 in No. 64. 
Ethelinda Frey (13) won $3 in No. 65. 
Catharine Emma Jackson (17) won $2 in No. 67. 
Elsie Nathan (17) won $1 in No. 52 ; $2 in No. 70. 
Marjorie Peeples (12) won $2 in No. 66. 
Rosalea May McCready (14) won $1 in No. 66. 
Doris F. Halman (12) won $1 in No. 75. 


See also page 12. 




Given Away 
in CASH 



TEN • S5 cash 

*-»*" • numbers. 

Each to the five sending in The 
Largest number of Zeno Wrap- 
pers before September I, 1908. 
To the one sending in the Second 
largest number of Zeno Wrappers 
before September I, 1908. 
To the one sending in the Third 
largest number of Zeno Wrappers 
before September I, 1908. 
prizes for the ten next largest 

In case of a tie, an equal division of the prize will be 
made between the persons so tied. 


Means Good Chewing Gum 

You may send Zeno Gum Wrappers as often as you like 
for the regular presents, but if you want to try for one 
of the cash prizes send for entrance certificate and pro- 
spectus. Cash Contest will close September 1, 1908. 
No one not enrolled can be considered in awarding the 
cash prizes. 
Write for BIG FREE list of presents. 

ZENO MFG. CO., Dept. 4 
150-160 W. Van Buren St., Chicago 

You surely 
must n't miss 
reading this 

Breezy, humorous, delightful from 
start to finish. It tells how Brewster 
and the other boys of Fairfield each 
earned money to buy a 

and how they formed a com 
Daisy Cadets. Since publishing this captiv 
story, which was written especially for us by o 
America's foremost humorous writers, we h; 
away thousands of copies, and helped boy: 
part of the country establish branch post 
new patriotic order, the Daisy Cadets. W 
copy to-day. Its exquisite bubbling humot 
straight to the heart of every boy, or ever} 
of a boy. The Daisy Air Rifle is a real g 
boys that furnishes endless amusement, a 
the same time gives that true training am 
velopment of hand, nerve and eye that m 
for healthy, rugged successful manhood. 
Daisy Air Rifle is modeled after the latest n 
azine hunting rifle and is sighted as ace 
rately and carefully. Shoots with compres 
air instead of powder, and is entirely free 

1000 Shot Daisy Automatic Magazine Rifle $' 
Other Daisy Models $1.00 (o $1. 

Little Daisy, the new pop-gun for children, i 

More Daisy Air Rifles are made than ; 
other kinds combined. They are sold t 
hardware and sporting goods dealers every 
where, or delivered from factory anywhere 
in the United States on receipt of price. 

Write to-day for a copy of this brisk f 
breezy, out-of-doors story, and learn howj 
you can join the Daisy Cadets free of ex. 
pense. To all boys we will sendalsocoi 
plete rules of drill, hints on marksman 
ship and full directions for forming < 
drill company of Daisy Cadets. 
285 Union St., Plymouth, Midi. 





By Maria Parloa 

A helpful, authoritative, and marvelously com- 
plete guide toward the making of a healthful, 
well-ordered, happy home. 

" Let every family make this practical guide an addi- 
tion to its library, and use it as a reference when in 
doubt or perplexity." — Woman's Journal (Boston). 

Illustrated. $1.50. 


By the author of "The Century Cook Book." 

The most suggestive book on dainty dishes for 
dainty meals in print. 

"This good book seems to answer .all the questions 
which other cook books did not, while the novelties it 
offers will stimulate fresh ambition and interest in the 
soul of the most jaded housewife." — Kansas Cityjitar. 

208 pictures. $1.40 net. Postage IS cents. 




I llustrated 



from Good 

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r' ^->%££MbR^JmZi 

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600 Pages 

of the 
Best Prac- 




DATE."— Boston Herald. 

In too many households the daily fare is of a quality 
which satisfies no other sense than that of hunger — hy- 
gienic requirements and esthetic possibilities being un- 
known or disregarded. Economy, practicability, and the 
resources of the average kitchen have been constantly 
borne in mind. 


—New York Home Journal. 
The Century Cook Book aims to be the friend and helper 
of every woman who wishes to establish and maintain a 
well-ordered cuisine. It offers recipes for simple and in- 
expensive as well as elaborate and costly dishes, and for 
the inexperienced as well as for the trained cook. 


By Mary A. Boland 

Formerly Instructor in Cooking in the Johns Hopkins 
Training-school for Nurses. 

Invaluable for nurses in training, nurses in prac- 
tice, and for all who care £w the sick. 

"The vade mecum of the sick room." — Christian Stand- 
ard (Cincinnati.) . 



Compiled by Katharine Wood 

Over two hundred pages of quotations — apt, 
spicy, clever — for every possible occasion. All 
completely indexed. 

"That most amusing and useful book of extracts." — 
- Kansas City Star. 


Sold everywhere or sent postpaid on receipt of price by 




Rockland Military Academy 

West Lebanon, IV. M. 

Owns twenty-five acres of land on Mascoma Lake at Enfield, 
N.H., where a cottage has been erected especially to meet the 
needs of our Summer Camp for Boys well known as Camp 
Rockland. We also have a Hunter's Lodge in the woods five 
miles east of the camp. Our school, camp, and lodge make a 
combination hard to beat. Circulars free. Address 
Elmer E. French, A.M., Supt., West Lebanon, N.II. 


Booklet Free. 


H. H. Stuart, A.B., Hallowell, Maine. 

Wisconsin, Milwaukee. 
rcmr\ PnlroMmo For Girls, in Northern Wisconsin. 
V^dllip rUHegailld Saddle-horses,motor-boat, land and 
water sports, athletics. Music, Nature Study. Tutoring for School 
or College. Constant care. Cultured companions. 
Mr. and Mrs. E. Sherwood Bishop, East Division High School. 



An Ideal Summer, spent on Newfound Lake, gives your daughter 
outdoor life and comradeship, such as are enjoyed by her brother. 
Swimming, boating, canoeing, nights spent in the open, and every 
feature best calculated to build up the physique ; with enough seri- 
ous study to keep the mind in training. Address Mrs Elmer E. 
Hassan, 851 WestEndAve., NewYork; after June ist,Bristol,N.H. 

Wisconsin, Delafield. For boys in the Wisconsin Woods. 
Kppiwatin r^mi-ic Saddle-horses, sail-boats, motor- 
iS-eeWaUn tampS boats, shells, baseball, tennis, fenc- 
ing, boxing, track, swimming, fishing, music. Trips over trail and 
waterway thru Mich., Minn., and So. Ont. College preparation, one 
counselorforfour boys. Winter Tutorial Camp. J H. Kendregan. 

New-York, New- York, Washington Square. 
AT^. T . v^^u ti«' «-»«•* Comprehends eight schools. 

New York U niversity The £ aw Sc hooi (with Day 

and Evening Classes), MedicalColIege,GraduateSchoo], Pedagogy, 
Applied Science, University College, Veterinary College, and Com- 
merce Acc'ts and Finance. For circulars, address The Registrar. 


Perfect models of large tools, made in Ger- 
man silver, highly polished, and finely fin- 
ished in all their parts, small enough to be 
used as watch charms. Make suitable favors 
for dance or card party. 

Do not send us coin loose in envelope. It 
is liable to loss in mails. Send postage 
stamps or money order. 


130 E. 20th St., New York. 

liV C/IlllM I. l3 POSTPAID 


Valve, highly plated metal. 

Butcher's Cleaver, ebony and coral handle. 

Butcher's Steel, ivory and ebony handle. 

Cabinet Clamp, all metal. 


Mason's Trowel, ebony handle. 

Monkey Wrench, ebony or ivory handle. 

Barber's Razor, metal. 

Ball Pein Machinist's Hammer, metal handle 

Hand Saw, metal handle. 

Claw Hammer, metal handle. 

Draw Knife, metal handle. 

That Dainty MintCovered 
Candy Coated 
Chewing Gum 


At All the octterkind ofStwes 

5 cents the Ounce 
orin5«.,1(K.and 2 51 Packets 


If your neighborhood store can't supply you send us 10c for sample packet. 
FRANK H. FLEER & COMPANY, INC., Philadelphia, U. S. A., and Toronto, Can. 







{Honor Member) 

The daisy lies dreaming of sunlight and heat, 
Of caroling birds and summer dew, — 
When through her dream whispers a message sweet : 
" Wake up, little daisy, the morn is new; 
In field and pasture run hurrying feet, 
Wake up, little daisy, we 're waiting for you! ". 

The daisy awakens and opens her eyes, 

She sees green grass and heavens blue. 

Above through the branches a robin flies, 

Chirping, " Sweet daisy, the morn is new, 

The starling trills and the blue-jay cries 

' Wake up, little daisy, we 're waiting for you ! ' " 

The daisy looks out on a world of love, 
On a world of sun and warmth and dew ; 
She stretches white arms to the blue above, 
Whispering gladly, " The morn is new ! " 
"Come, waken and gladden us," coos the dove, 
" Little daisy, we have been waiting for you ! " 



{Silver Badge Winner) 

In a moat around a castle 'ground there was a lotus plant 
which pushed its way up through the mud and dirty water. 
On the bank of the moat grew a willow tree which cast its 
shadow over the lotus. 

One day it said: "Why art thou unhappy, O lotus 
plant? " 

The lotus was very much surprised to find that the wil- 
low tree knew its secret thoughts ; but after a pause it 
answered and said: " I have great cause to be unhappy. I 
have pushed my way up through this dirty water and 
though I unfold my blossoms, still the mud holds me 

"The butterflies that sometimes hover over me tell me 
that there are lakes of clear water in temple grounds. 

" In these lakes are beautiful plants, and on the banks 
people sit on carved stone seats and write poems in their 

"But," said the willow tree, "you could not do your 
own mission if you were there." 

" What is my mission? " said the lotus. 

"It is to teach man. He sees you and says, 'Behold 
the lotus! Though its stem grows up through filth un- 
speakable, yet its flower is stainless white. So will I 
keep my soul pure! Though I am surrounded by sin, yet 
will I raise my thoughts to the pure and good in the world. ' " 

Soon two little girls came down to play in the shade of 
the willow tree. One of them said : 

" Okikw san, tell me a story about the lotus." And 
Okikw began : 

" Once Buddha was walking in the forest when he heard 
a voice that uttered great truths. He looked around, but 
saw no one. 

"Finally, helooked overa precipice and saw a tremendous 
dragon. He asked it if it had uttered those words, and it 
answered 'Yes.' Then he asked it many questions. Fi- 
nally, he asked it about the greatest mystery of all. But 
the dragon said : ' I will not answer you until I am fed on, 
human flesh.' 

" Then Buddha answered and said: 'I will gladly give 
my own body after I have heard this great last truth.' 

" So the dragon uttered the great truth. 

"Then Buddha hurled himself over the precipice into the 
dragon's mouth. But when he touched the wide open 
jaws, the monster split into eight parts and became a huge 
eight-petaled lotus flower that bore him safely to the top 
of the precipice. 

" Pie now sits in Paradise, upon a golden lotus, wrapped 
in pious thought. Thus the lotus is the sacred flower of 



Ages ago, in the country of Hellas, which is known to us 
as Greece, there lived a youth named Hyacinthus, who 
was beloved by both Apollo, a model of manly beauty, and 
Zephyrus, the West Wind. 

Apollo, however, was preferred, and daily taught and 
frolicked with the youth. 

Zephyrus, who was very jealous, one day came upon the 
two in the garden, playing quoits, and planned revenge. 

"Apollo's own hand," thought he, " shall be the one to 
kill the boy. I will waft the quoit from its course." 

Thus reflecting, he drew nearer, and as the missile left 
Apollo's hand, straight and swift it flew, impelled by the 
wicked West Wind. 

The boy dropped to the ground dead. Apollo, aghast 
at what he had done, sought to discover some trace of life, 
but all in vain ; the quoit had done its work too well. 

The blood from the wound stained the ground with a 
dark, significant red, and everywhere it fell grew beautiful 
flowers, which, to this day, bear the boy's name. 


The St. Nicholas League is an organization of St. Nicholas 
readers. A League badge and an instruction leaflet will be sent 
on application. Address 
The St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York City. 





Spalding's Official Base Ball Guide 

Edited by Henry Chadwick, the 
"Father of Base Ball." Every boy needs 
Spalding's Guide. It tells how base ball 
originated, as decided by a commission 
composed of Senator Bulkeley of Connec- 
ticut and other prominent authorities; 
"How We Won the World's Champion- 
ship," is told by Chance, Kling, Evers, 
and the rest of the Cubs. The balance 
of the contents includes Simplified Play- 
ing Rules, compiled especially for boys 
by Mr. A. G. Spalding, interesting articles 
on the game and the greatest lot or play ers ' 
pictures ever published. Price 10 cents 

Spalding's Official Base Ball Record 

Something new. All the past season's 
records and many never previously col- 
lated. Plenty of action pictures. 10 cents. 


126 Nassau St. 147 Wabash Av. 


Every boy should send for Spalding's new 
Base Ball Catalogue, which contains 
prices and pictures of everything used in 

the game. 

Mailed free, 

» - '-■"•' 

In Cash 



1^ In Stock 
^mt^Wy or The 
S"^^ y Miami Cycle 
L___^-^ 8f Mf£. Co.. 

'j which earned 10% daring the season 

of 1907, is offered as proof that 



has less pressure on its crank hanger bearings 
than any ordinary bicy cle built; therefore, that 
it pushes easier and runs faster with less energy 
and will climb hills easier. The explanation 
is found in the special Crank Hanger construc- 
tion and large Sprockets of the Racy cle. 1908 
Models are built with drop forged steel heads, 
crown and seat post clusters and the frames are 
made of English cold drawn weldless steel 
tubing made especially for us. We build Racy 
cles as near non-breakable as money, materiala 
and workmanship will permit. 

Write for 1908 catalog and pamphlet— "The 
Three Rjasons' 1 , which contains our offer. 
"We make no cheap RACYCLES but you can 
secure yours cheap If you secure us an agent. 

TheMiamiCycleSMfg.Co.MiddIetown,0.,D.S^. > 


Childreh like Ivory Soap. They take to it as ducks do to 

It floats — that is one reason why they like it. They cannot 
quite get it into their little heads why it floats; but they know it 
does. And that suffices. 

It does not irritate their tender skins; and it yields a soft, 
smooth, creamy lather that takes the dirt away and makes their 
hands and faces so pink and white that even father notices it and 
says, "My! My! How clean you are this morning." 

Ivory Soap .... 99 4 i^M Per Cent. Pure. 


JUNE, 1908 







Copyright, 1908 by The Century Co.] (Trade-Mark Registered Feb. 6, 1907.) [Entered at N. Y Post Office as Second Class Ma. I Matter 

Ham or Bacon 

is keenly relished by those whose appetites are normal. 
The rich, nut-like flavor delights the epicure and tempts 
the most fastidious. 

Tender juicy ham or crisp savory bacon are gen- 
uinely wholesome and nutritious — sustaining viands for 
every member of the family. 

Instead of merely asking for ham or bacon — say 
"Swift's Premium"— then see that "Swift's Pre- 
mium" is stamped on the rind. If it is, you are 

getting the best. 

Order Swift's Premium Ham or Bacon today, 
and try it on your own table. 

Swift & Company, U. S. A. 


Do You Want This Pony? 

"Princk," that 's his name, is to be given 
away to some boy or girl on July 30th by the 
Pony Man of Woman's Home Companion. 
Every St. Nicholas boy and girl should enter 
this contest. ... ... 


Dear Boys and Girls: 

Good news: The Pony Man of Woman's Home Companion is going to give away "Prince," this beautiful 
pony, to some boy or girl on July 30th. Don't you want to get him ? Well, you can win " Prince" and his cart and 
harness, if you hustle and get the most points. All you have to do is to get enough good friends to subscribe to 
Woman's Home Companion, and that will be easy, because Woman's Home Companion is the best woman's 
magazine published and costs only a Dollar a year. 

A Prize for Every Boy and Girl 

Absolutely every boy and girl who takes part in this contest and gets any points will receive a prize, and every 
contestant will be rewarded for all work done — The Pony Man and Woman's Home Companion guarantee it. So 
you see you cannot lose. 

Think of it, in just a few weeks " Prince " and his handsome cart and harness, all ready to be used, will be given 
to some boy or girl, and whoever does get "Prince" will be the luckiest boy or girl in all the land. Why shouldn't 
it be you ? 

Write to The Pony Man To-day 

Write me a letter or a postal to-day and say, "Dear Pony Man : I want to win 'Prince.' Tell me all about 
him and the other grand prizes." Sign your name and give your address in full. My address is: The Pony Man, 
WOMAN'S HOME COMPANION, Madison Square, New York City. Don't wait— write to-day. I 

will send you right off a lot of pictures of " Prince," and will tell 
you how to win this beautiful pony, and also how to win the $500. 
piano, and all the other fine prizes. 

Yours for "Prince," 




P. S. — If you make sure of a prize, don't wait for my 
letter, but start right out, and ask three or four friends to subscribe 
to WOMAN'S HOME COMPANION at $1.00 each. Then 
you will be a prize-winner sure. 

June 1908 



Toasted Corn FlaKes 

The new and improved process of making 
toasted corn flakes, known as "The E-C 
Process," makes E-C-CORN Flakes more 
perfectly cooked, more daintily flaked, more 
appetizingly toasted, more tasty and deli- 
cious, and last but not least, more nutritious. 
As we have discarded the crude original 
railroad train for the luxurious modern flyer, 
so we should discard ordinary brands of corn 
■■ flakes for appetizing, whole- 

some EC- CORN 
Flakes, the improved. 
Try a package to day. 

Costs no more than 
tHe ordinary Kinds 

All Grocers, 
lO cents 


Largest Manufacturers of FlaKed Cereal 
Foods in the World 

[The entire contentsof this Magazine are covered by the general copyright, and articles must not be reprinted without special permission. ] 




Picture drawn by Harold Hopping. 703 

Serial Story Agnes McClelland Daulton . . 704 

Frontispiece. The Great College Boat-Race as it May Soon be "Rowed." 
Drawn by A. T. Merrick. 

An Invitation. Verse Edith Sanford Tillotson.. 

Illustrated by George Varian. 

At Good Cheer Inn. Story Pearl Howard Campbell. 

Illustrated by Julie C. Pratt. 

Icebergs. Sketch • Day Allen Willey 679 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

Harry's Island. Serial Story Ralph Henry Barbour 685 

Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 

A Summer Snow-Storm. Verse E. S. T 693 

Illustrated by H. S. Adams. 

The Royal Circus in Jungleville. Pictures drawn by I. w. Taber 694 

Breaking Them In. Verse Nancy Byrd Turner 696 

Illustrated by E. H. Chamberlain. 

Famous Indian Chiefs Maj.-Cen. 0. 0. Howard 

XI. Chief Joseph of the Nez Perces 697 

XII. Moses 700 

Illustrated by George Varian, and from Photographs. 

A Strong Man. Verse C. F. Lester 702 

Illustrated by the Author. 

Which Hand Is It In? Verse c. F. L 702 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The First Match of the Base-Ball Season. 
The Gentle Interference of Bab. 

Illustrated by Florence E. Storer. 
June. Verse. Illustrated by the Author May Aiken 709 

The Boy Builders: A New Way of Building Houses. Story Charles Barnard 710 

Illustrated from Photographs. 

Suppose. Verse Edward N. Teall 713 

Illustrated by the Author. 

The Brave Hussar. Story Everett Wilson 714 


Three "If's." Verse Louise M. Berry 715 

The Only Child. Picture drawn by C. J. Budd 716 

The Little Kittens' Surprise. Pictures drawn by Culmer Barnes ' . . . . 717 

Three Years Behind the Guns. The True Chronicles of a "Diddy- 

Box." Serial Story. (Concluded.) "L. G. T." 718 

Illustrated from Photographs, and from Drawings by Chris. Jorgensen. 

" Guardian." Verse Elsie HU1 727 

Illustrated by Albertine Randall Wheelan. 

The Happychaps. Happychapter VI. Verse Carolyn WeUs 728 

Illustrated by Harrison Cady. 

Every-Day Verses Alden Arthur Knipe 

Finger-Nails 734 

AtDinner 735 

Illustrated by Emilie Benson Knipe. 
Hints and Helps for "Mother." Rainy Day Amusements in the 

Nursery. Fifteenth Paper. " Old Envelop Toys " Adelia Belle Beard 736 

Illustrated by the Author. 

For Very Little Folk. The Bear Family at Home Curtis D. Wilbur 

The Coming of the Animal That Had a Long Neck 740 

The Coming of the Animal with Two Horns on His Nose 742 

The Fox Boys. Pictures drawn by Culmer Barnes 743 

Nature and Science £or Young Folks, illustrated 744 

The Album of the League, illustrated 752 

The St. Nicholas League. Awards of Prizes for Stories, Poems, 

Drawings, and Photographs 754 

Editorial *. 764 

The Letter-Box 765 

The Riddle-Box 767 

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THE CENTURY CO., Union Square, New York, N.Y. 






Mountain Parks, Glaciers, Camping, Ocean 
Bathing. Inland Water Excursions 

Visit En Route 

Yellowstone Park via Gardiner Gateway 

Qivtir r^r^Hp»**C Round Trip Tounsi Fares from 
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Vol. XXXV 

JUNE, 1908 

No. 8 



Miss June presents her compliments, and heartily extends 

A cordial invitation to her very dearest friends 

To spend a whole long month with her — full thirty happy days — 

When she will entertain us all, in most delightful ways. 

She'll give us lovely roses, and myriads of flowers, 

And cheer our hearts with beauty, through all the sunny hours. 

And if we're fond of music — a concert she will plan, 

For she can summon songsters that no other hostess can. 

Her feathered prima donnas are the finest ever heard — 

The oriole, the robin, and every singing bird. 

She will show enchanting pictures, — a moonlight on the sea, 

Some sleepy cows in pasture, or a shady chestnut-tree. 

Whenever we are hungry, there'll be dainty food to eat — 

And are not cream and strawberries a most delicious treat? 

So write her your acceptance and be sure to send it soon, 

And then I know we all shall spend a happy month with June ! 

Copyright, 1908, by The Century Co. All rights reserved. 

Commencement week was over. The girls who 
for four happy years had made Grafton Hall ring 
with songs and laughter, had said their last good- 
bys, and scattered for the summer vacation. 

Alone in the little chamber with its quaint, old- 
fashioned furniture, Elizabeth Copley slipped out 
of the pretty, frilly graduating-dress and but- 
toned herself into her favorite blue gingham. 
Then she paused for a moment before her mir- 
ror. From the gilt frame there smiled forth a 
girlish face, healthily brown, with a square, de- 
termined chin and a saucy mouth. The eyes were 
brown, and laughter-lighted ; the hair, by turns 
her pride and torment, was deepest auburn. 

"If I can't climb mountains in the West with 
the other girls, I shall have to surmount whole 
ranges of them right here at home, if I go to 
Wellesley this fall," she was saying to herself. 

Catching up her skirts with both hands she 
made a deep courtesy to the figure in the mirror. 
"Elizabeth Alice Copley," she said, "you are to be 
hung away in the closet with the Commencement 
gown and the brand new diploma, while little, 
red-haired 'Bess' earns the wherewithal to go to 

With a ripple of laughter she ran down the 
stairs to the dining-room where the family were 
waiting for her, her mother looking like a bit of 
fragile china as she bent above the tea-cups ; her 
father, tall and gray, with kindly eyes ; the boys, 
Spencer and Garrison ; and fifteen-year-old Grace. 

"We waited for you, dear," said Mrs. Copley. 
"Your father was a little hurried, but a daughter 
does n't graduate every day." 

"Launched, but whither bound?" quoted Spen- 
cer from his sister's oration. "How does Miss 
Copley intend to begin her career?" 

"By smashing family traditions into little 
pieces," answered Elizabeth, her eyes snapping. 

"Wh-ew!" Spencer exclaimed. "That is rank 
anarchy. I really must speak to your professor 
in history. If you care for a few facts in regard 
to your family's position in the past, I shall be 
glad to accommodate you with quite a record." 

"I don't," Elizabeth answered with what her 
brothers called her Betsy look. "Sometimes I 
think I 'd change places with Topsy for the sake 
of not having any ancestors to live up to." 

"Good for you, Bess," this from Garrison. "I 
certainly think we could spare a few." 

"Tell us your plan, daughter," said Mrs. Cop- 
ley. "I trust it is one that would meet with your 
Great-Aunt Elizabeth's approval." 

The . Copleys were poor, though they owned 
the rambling old house filled to the roof with 
furniture of a bygone age ; but, as Spencer was 
fond of saying, they were rich in eccentric- 
ities, heirlooms, and ancestors. Chief among the 
latter, the young people reckoned Great-Aunt 
Elizabeth Anne Copley, who lived alone in great 
splendor in her house in Boston, where, Elizabeth 
asserted, she climbed the family tree every day 
for exercise. 

She had taken a fancy to Elizabeth in her 
baby days, but had retired in high displeasure 
when the little girl was christened Alice for her 
mother's mother, instead of Anne. True, she had 
sent the baby an ornate silver cup from which 
generations of little Copleys had sipped their 
milk, and a robe of rare old lace. Since then she 
had held no intercourse with her nephew's fam- 
ily. Still she hovered in the background, spoiling 
their good times with her old-fashioned ideas of 

"Aunt Elizabeth would n't approve of it," was 
the reason given for abandoning many an uncon- 
ventional but really harmless plan. 

"Your Aunt Elizabeth would be horrified be- 
yond measure if she knew you considered such an 
offer for an instant," was Mr. Copley's decision, 
when Spencer announced that he had hired out 
to the grocer during the summer vacation, though 
the father afterward gave his consent. 

Perhaps the fact that she had so early incurred 
her great-aunt's displeasure had something to do 
with fostering in Elizabeth an intense dislike for 
what she termed ancestral nonsense. Indepen- 
dent to her finger-tips, she was forever setting the 
family traditions at naught. Merry, self-reliant, 
she had long ago transferred the burdens of the 
housekeeping from her mother's frail shoulders 
to her own robust ones. Yet she found time 
with all her school work to be her brothers' 
chum, her father's confidant, and the little sister's 
best friend. 

"What is your plan, Betty?" queried Spencer. 




"You will have us all on tiptoe, guessing, if you 
keep us in suspense much longer." 

She looked at them, laughter brimming in her 
eyes. "I warned you. Now listen: I am going 
to start a restaurant at Berwick-by-the-Sea." 

"What do you suppose your Aunt Elizabeth 
will say to that ?" asked Mr. Copley with a lumi- 
nous twinkle in his eyes. 

"That it is vulgar and commonplace; but I 
don't care, if I can only go to college this fall." 

two hotels, where you can get a decent cup of tea 
or an ice. There 's the dearest old house with a 
garden in front of it, belonging to the Chadwick 
estate. The rent is n't high, for I asked. I want 
to take down some of our furniture, make it 
look like an old-time coffee-house, and serve old- 
fashioned dainties." 

"Elizabeth's Inn, where she 's never out," said 
Spencer gaily. 

"You know I can cook," replied Elizabeth, 


"She might help you," said Mrs. Copley, hope- 
fully, "if she knew how anxious you are to go." 

"She won't. She 'd rather look on and criti- 
cize. I don't want her money, not a penny of it," 
Elizabeth finished wrathfully. 

"Well, well, you are not likely to get it, so calm 
down," Spencer interposed. "Any one would 
think to hear you that she was waiting at the 
back door with her fortune in a market-basket on 
her arm." 

"Tell us about this wonderful plan of yours, 
and who put it into your head," said Garry. 

"Ever so many people go there," Elizabeth be- 
gan, "and there is n't a single place, except the 

"even if I never did a sampler in my childhood." 

"Urn, can you?" Garry interrupted. "It 's my 
belief, Bess, that you tumbled out of your cradle 
in order to initiate the cook into the mysteries of 
clam chowder. But what about the funds?" 

"The funds are provided for," Elizabeth an- 
swered sagely. "I 've scrimped all the year for 
this very purpose. Then it does not take a great 
deal to start with. The question before the 
House of Copley is : May I ?" 

"You certainly may, if you will take me as a 
regular boarder," Spencer answered quickly. 

"I can't ; you 'd eat up all the profits. But how 
about the real permission? May I, father?" 



When he had given his consent, she took Grace 
with her and went down to look the situation 
over. The house was well built in the Colonial 
style, with a hall running the entire length. The 
parlor, in which Elizabeth intended to serve her 
patrons, had quaint, many-paned windows, and 
a big stone fireplace where a fire of driftwood 
was to be kept burning on chilly days. 

The garden, one of the chief attractions of the 
place, had suffered from neglect, but vigorous 
work with the trowel and pruning-knife soon re- 
stored its former beauty. Some days later, the 
sisters went down again to the house, scrub- 
bing and polishing until everything was in order. 
After that they arranged the furniture where it 
would show to the best advantage, the spinning- 
wheel in the hall, as if its mistress had just left 
it. Over the door and the gateway they erected 
the sign. "Ye Goode Cheere Inn." 

At last Grace, in a full-skirted gown and white 
kerchief, with all her pretty hair hidden under a 
Puritan cap, seated herself on the veranda with a 
bit of embroidery in her hands. 

"It 's a shame to make an advertisement of 
you," said Elizabeth ; "but I 've got to do some- 
thing to get people to coming here. You look as 
if you had stepped right out of a history." 

"I feel like a spider waiting for flies," she an- 

For an hour or two she sewed on undisturbed. 
The passers-by smiled at the pretty picture, read 
the sign, and went on. But at last there came a 
troop of girls in the thinnest and sheerest of 
summery gowns. They, too, read the sign and 
looked long at sweet "Priscilla." Then the gate 
clicked, and they came slowly up the hollyhock- 
bordered pathway. 

"Little maid of long ago," said the leader, "do 
you serve tea here ? We are famished, and your 
sign looks very inviting." 

"Yes," answered Grace, dropping a courtesy 
and entering into the spirit of the thing, "will 
you please walk this way?" 

When she had seated them, she brought forth, 
not a printed bill-of-fare, but a slate on which 
Elizabeth had written the names of the old fash- 
ioned dainties for which she excelled. 

The girls ordered indiscriminately, admiring 
the snowy linen, the china, and the charming 
room, and praising the cooking. 

"It 's the dearest, most original place I ever 
saw," said the eldest as she settled for the lunch. 
"We are coming every day, and we '11 bring other 
people. We must let them know about it !" 

The girls were as good as their word. The 
fame of the little inn where one might rest and 
feast among the surroundings of the past, spread 
among the hotel people until they quite over- 
flowed it. 

One day, late in the afternoon, there came an 
old lady with a grim, aristocratic face and sharp 
eyes that looked through and through one. She 
seated herself at a little table and ordered straw- 
berries and sponge cake. Then she looked long 
and hard at the auburn-haired girl who served 

"Are you Elizabeth Alice Copley ?" she asked. 

"Yes," Bess answered, wishing for the first 
time in her life that she could deny her name. 

The day was warm. She was tired and though 
she had surmounted many obstacles during the 
summer, she suddenly felt herself unfitted for the 
contest with this redoubtable relative. 

"Will you," said Miss Copley [for she it was] 
in the iciest of voices, "tell me how it happens 
that you, my grand-niece, could so demean your- 
self as to serve in a public dining-room?" 

"It 's my dining-room," Elizabeth answered 
hotly, flushing to the roots of her hair. Then she 
added : "Aunt Elizabeth, I 'm not a Copley, for 
the Copleys were all of them smart. I 'm just an 
average girl with no especial talents and I must 
work, that is, if I go to college this fall. I could 
not sit still at home and let father and the boys 
slave for me, so I started Ye Goode Cheere Inn. 
It has been popular. People like my cooking and 
the way I do things and — " a little rebelliously, 
"I 'm proud of my success." 

She did not raise her eyes from the table, so 
the marvelous change taking place in the stern 
old face was all unnoticed. 

"Elizabeth, dear child," said Miss Copley softly, 
"did you never think of asking me for help?" 

"No ; why should I ?" she answered quickly. 
"I have been afraid of you all my life." 

"Not at first. You screamed when your mother 
took you out of my arms when you were a baby. 
Don't you know that if you were not a Copley 
through and through, you could never have car- 
ried out this surprising idea of yours and made a 
success of it? Dear Bess, I am proud of Ye 
Goode Cheere Inn and glad to acknowledge that 
the clever little girl who started it is my niece. 
Is it not time, my dear, that we two Elizabeths 
began to understand each other ?" 

The white hand and the brown one met across 
the table and, to the wonderment of the entire 
family, the friendship begun in the dining-room 
of Good Cheer Inn was never broken. 



"From Greenland's Icy Mountains" is the begin- 
ning of a hymn which most of us have sung many 
a time in church or Sunday-school ; but the reader 
may not know that often these mountains are 
actually floating on the waters of the sea, for 
most of the icebergs come from this land far up 
in the northern ocean — so near the North Pole 
that nearly all of its surface is covered with ice 
which formed, no one knows how many ages ago. 
Had the geographer given the name Iceland to 

fitting title, though its masses seem small com- 
pared with those of Greenland, for here the 
earth's surface is buried in an ice cap which the 
scientists believe to be fully 3000 feet — over a 
half mile — thick in the interior. From this cap 
extend numberless glaciers, which reach clear to 
the waters of the ocean, sometimes far into the sea. 
We might call Greenland the world's ice-box. 
If you glance at the map, you will see that the 
State of New York, large as it seems to us, is not 


this great region of the arctic, it would have 
been far more suitable, perhaps, than Greenland, 
for its smaller companion which lies between it 
and the continent of Europe has more vegetation ; 
but when Iceland was first settled, its glaciers and 
snow-fields probably caused the hardy Danes who 
took possession of it to think this was the most 

over one twentieth of the size of Greenland: for 
New York contains only 47,000 square miles. 
Then think that the glaciers are steadily moving 
away from the center of Greenland, really being 
crowded off the land, and it will not seem so 
strange that here is the birthplace of nearly all 
of the icebergs that are so feared by the mariner. 





The manner in which the iceberg is formed is 
worth the telling. Physical geography explains 


how the glaciers work their way along the valleys 
in the earth's surface. As the interior of Green- 
land is much higher than the coast, many of them 
lie on slopes which of course incline toward the 
sea. The enormous weight of the ice mass forces 
it over the surface, even where the incline may 
be very slight. For many miles the shore rises 
abruptly from the ocean in steep walls of rock 
against which the waves dash. The glacier reaches 
the edge of the bluff and then is pushed over 

thick it has enormous strength, but finally the 
force of gravity conquers, the edge of the glacier 
breaks off and topples into the 
sea, and thus an iceberg is 

There are other places 
where the shore rises gently 
or where valleys extend down- 
ward to the ocean. The ice 
moves along these depressions 
and far out into the water, un- 
til it may extend miles beyond 
the actual shore-line. But un- 
derneath may flow one of those 
odd rivers of the ocean which 
are called the arctic currents. 
Possibly a storm has occurred 
far out on the open sea which 
hurls its waves against the glit- 
tering mass, or stirs the depths 
beneath. These may rend the 
glacier apart or, possibly, on one of those occa- 
sional days of the short Greenland summer when 
the sun's rays are warm enough, they weaken a 
portion which is thinner than the rest. So other 
bergs are formed to be caught in the ocean river 
and perhaps carried five hundred miles north 
from their starting-point until, drifting into the 
Labrador current, they float southward on the 
voyage from which none returns. 

So if you are crossing the Atlantic and chance 



it. Perhaps it hangs above the sea for a distance to see an iceberg glittering in the sunlight, you 
of fifty feet or more, because if the ice is very may think of it as a part of a glacier that is per- 

i 9 o8.] 



haps a thousand years old. Well may it cause 
awe as well as admiration. Viewed from the 
ship's deck it seems a hundred feet or more in 
height, but the cautious captain usually steers a 
course that is some distance from the berg, for 
he does not know how much of it may be hidden 
below the surface. If you guess its top to be two 
hundred feet above the surface of the sea, you 

den, mav project sideways or lengthways from 
the portion which is visible, and if the vessel ven- 
tures too near, she may strike the projection and 
be sunk, or "grounded" on the berg. This strange 
accident has happened more than once in the 
North Atlantic ocean. Sometimes a berg is 
grounded itself. Floating southward with the 
current, it may be carried into a part of the sea 


may not be far wrong. Some have drifted past 
the city of St. Johns, Newfoundland, that were 
nearly as high as the hills that mark the entrance 
to its harbor, and icebergs rising two hundred 
and two hundred and fifty feet out of the ocean 
are not uncommon ; but the captain has good rea- 
son to be cautious, for the mass that looms up so 
stately is but a small portion of the entire berg. 
If it is two hundred or three hundred feet high, 
it may reach a thousand feet below the level of 
the sea. If it is very high in proportion to its 
length and thickness as seen above the water, it 
must be enough submerged to keep it from top- 
pling over, for, as is well known, ice contains so 
much air that it is very buoyant, therefore the 
part submerged acts like the ballast in a ship. It 
helps to keep it upright. The part which is hid- 

where its bottom strikes the ocean "floor" — the 
bottom of the sea. There it is held perhaps for 
months, until the melting of the upper part causes 
it to rise sufficiently to clear the ocean bed, but it 
may be disengaged by the waves of a storm which 
heave it from its resting-place. 

As we see them at a distance, these ice moun- 
tains from Greenland's coast are very picturesque, 
especially when their sides reflect the rays of the 
sun. The ice may not seem as clear and as pure 
when you come close up to it, but seen a half mile 
or a mile away it is a sight to be remembered 
by the one who has never before witnessed it. In 
shape it may seem like a mountain — slopes and 
summit being perfectly outlined. Fancy may shape 
another into a cathedral from which glittering 
spires arise. Another looks like a vast block of 




granite or marble just after it has been taken from 
the quarry. Seen from another point, it may 
bring to mind a crouching animal, such as a lion 
or a dog or a walrus. Nature molds the masses 
with the aid of the wind and sun. 

As they get further and further southward, the 
warmer air rounds off the sharp corners and 
makes curves of beauty. They do not look so 
rough and jagged as when they begin their jour- 
ney, but this glacial ice is much harder than that 
which forms on the surface of the sea or lake. 

of glaciers have split off and fallen into the water, 
these boulders are often held in their embrace. 
It is a curious fact that many huge stones found 
on the coast of Labrador and Newfoundland have 
been carried to their final resting-place all the 
way from Greenland imbedded in icebergs that 
stranded or grounded on these shores. 

Melville Bay, Greenland, named after Admiral 
Melville, the celebrated arctic explorer, is almost 
surrounded by glaciers, some of which reach back 
into the interior a distance of twenty-five miles; 


Constant pressure upon it as the glacier has been 
crowding its way to the sea, has made it dense, 
compact, just as hammering and pressing make 
the iron bar harder and stronger. 

But on looking at the iceberg through the ma- 
rine glass or telescope, its walls may appear dark. 
Perhaps you see black objects in them. These 
are parts of Greenland which it has carried away, 
either to drop into the sea as it melts, or deposit 
on the shore, if it should be stranded, and there 
dissolve. As the glacier moves seaward at the 
rate of an inch or a foot a day, it really pushes 
through the earth and softer rock, carrying this 
sediment along, the mixture being what is called 
the moraine. The dirt and stone sink into the in- 
terior of the ice mass. So some of the larger 
glaciers reaching that arm of the ocean known as 
Melville Bay, have brought to it boulders weigh- 
ing a ton or more, and when overlapping edges 

but there are a number of bays or what the Nor- 
wegian would call fjords also on the west coast 
that pierce the land for fifty miles, and many ice- 
bergs come from them as well. The bergs which 
go around Cape Race and pass Newfoundland 
have been partly melted by the warm, moist winds 
which blow from the southeast against their sides. 
In spite of their dimensions, most of them are 
small compared with the enormous masses that 
float out of Melville Bay and the other inlets. 
Arctic explorers have seen some which were fully 
five hundred feet high and several miles around 
at the point where they rested in the water — ac- 
tually ice islands in size. 

When an iceberg breaks away from a glacier, it 
sounds like the report of a heavy gun, and may 
be heard for miles, while its fall into the water 
produces waves which roll from shore to shore 
of the bay. The sound caused by the breaking of 




the ice in one place frequently causes other ledges 
to break off. It is supposed that the vibration of 
the air due to the sound waves 
produces this effect, just as an 
avalanche of snow is some- 
times started down a moun- 
tain merely by a shout or the 
ordinary tone of the voice. 

It is a long voyage which 
the bergs make before they 
disappear to mingle with the 
waters of the Atlantic. Nearly 
all of the year they are float- 
ing away from Greenland's 
western shores, first taking a 
course which carries them as 
far north as the 75th parallel 
of latitude. Glance at the map 
and you willsee thatthisisnear 
the greatsource of the bergs, - 
Melville Bay. Then they 
swing westward and, coming 
down the mainland of North 

America, skirt the bleak, bare shores of Baffin Land 
and Labrador, sometimes blocking up the straits of 
Belle Isle that divide the Labrador peninsula from 
Newfoundland. In the late summer and early 
autumn, the stately procession of icebergs can be 

be visible at one time. To study their massive walls 
it would seem as if they defied Nature to melt them, 


but when they get as far south as Newfoundland, 
they decrease more and more rapidly in size, 
finally becoming "baby" icebergs, twenty or thirty 
feet in height, which frequently drift into harbors 
or continuing southward, finally disappear in the 


seen to the best advantage from the shores of Eng- ocean. Their graveyard seems to be in the At- 
land's oldest colony. Some days only one or two may lantic about four hundred miles south of Nova 
come in sight. On others a half dozen or more may Scotia. Here the water is of such a temperature 



that they melt below as well as above the sur- 
face. The sailor dreads these glacial islands, not 
only because his craft may strike one and be 


sunk, but because they change in size and shape 
far more rapidly than one could imagine. A berg 
which appears to be as solid as a mountain may 
become top-heavy and fall into the sea, crushing 
anything that is near it. Sometimes a venture- 
some fisherman will attach his boat to an iceberg 
by means of a rope if there is no wind, and let it 
tow him southward toward the fishing-banks, but 
he is taking a great risk in doing so. The smaller 
bergs, however, afford a supply of fresh, pure 
water, for the glacial ice is not salt. So when the 
skipper chances to be "short" of water it is a 
common thing for him to steer for the nearest 
iceberg and send a boat and crew alongside of it. 

The boat is moored to its side and the men cut 

off chunks which are taken to the vessel and 

melted down in a steam boiler. Where water is 

scarce in the coast towns the 

" baby " bergs are used for a 


Packs of ice a hundred 
miles wide are sometimes 
broken off from the mainland. 
The pack looks like a country 
of perpetual winter, as its sur- 
face contains more or less 
snow and is furrowed and 
ridged where the cakes have 
been driven upon each other 
and piled into heaps, by the 
arctic storms that break up 
the pack, only to again be 
frozen together. On the edge 
of the pack are numerous 
hummocks or piles twenty 
and thirty feet high. Often 
they become separated and 
the novice callsthem icebergs, 
but they are not, because the 
berg is composed only of gla- 
cier ice, as we have stated. 
These hummocks are very dangerous, however, and 
many a craft has gone to the bottom of the sea by 
striking one of them. Sometimes pieces of the pack 
are separated from it, forming sharp-edged cakes 
which are mostly under water. These "growlers," 
as the seaman calls them, when tossed about on the 
waves are as much to be feared as the icebergs 
themselves, for they are so heavy that they deal a 
hard blow when dashed against the ship's sides, and 
their sharp, jagged sides will cut through the 
stoutest timber, even the copper which may sheathe 
the outside of the craft. Steamship passengers 
often like to see icebergs; but to the captains and 
navigators they are never a welcome sight. 



Chapter XI 


Dick turned to Roy in dismay. Chub, stifling a 
chuckle, looked over toward the nearest shore. 

"If she was going six miles," he said, "things 
on shore would move by a heap faster. I don't 
believe she 's doing better than four." 

"She 's stopped, you blamed lunatic!" cried 
Dick wildly. Chub stared in surprise. 

"Stopped, has she? Why. I had n't noticed it! 
How can you tell?" 

"That will do, Chub," said Roy. Dick glared 
at him a moment and then turned with dark and 
somber looks toward the engine. 

"Where 's the handle?" he asked. 

"You put it in the drawer," answered Roy. 

Their troubles began again. Dick turned and 
Roy turned and Chub turned, and all the time the 
launch, having gradually swung her nose down- 
stream, was floating gently back toward Silver 
Cove. They had accomplished fully three 
fourths of the distance between the Cove and 
Fox Island when the engine stopped, but it 
seemed now that they would soon have the trip to 
make over again. It was very hot with scarcely 
any breeze rippling the water, and it was well on 
toward dinner-time. Chub yielded the wheel to 
Dick and sat down to get his breath and wipe the 
perspiration from his face. 

"Where 's the directions?" asked Roy. 

Search failed to reveal them. 

"It 's just as well," grunted Dick. "They don't 
tell you anything anyhow. Turn the rudder, Roy, 
and keep her off that sand-bank." 

"I tell you what we can do," said Chub as Dick 
stopped to rest. "Roy and I can get in the canoe 
and tow her and you can stay in here and steer." 

"It '11 be an all day's job," said Roy dispiritedly. 
"Why not tow her to that landing over there and 
leave her until we can get some one to fix her up 

"You fellows get in the canoe and go on to the 
island." said Dick. "I 'm going to stay here and 
make her go. She went once and she can do it 
again ; and she 's got to," he added doggedly. 

"Don't give up the ship," cried Chub cheer- 
fully. "We '11 stand by you. Captain. Let me 
have another go at her." He seized the handle 
and was slipping it into the wheel when there was 
a hail from near by and they looked across the 
water to where a small cat-boat was bobbing 

slowly toward them. The boat contained a man 
in the stern, but who he was they could n't make 
out because of the noonday glare on the surface 
of the water. 

"Hello!" called Dick. 

"Anything wrong?" was the query. 

"Engine 's gone back on us," answered Dick. 
At that moment the sail swung over and threw 
the occupant of the cat-boat into shadow. 

"It 's the Licensed Poet," marveled Roy. 

"Billy Noon, as big as life," added Chub. 

"I '11 see what I can do for you if you want me 
to," said the skipper of the sailing craft. "I '11 be 
there pretty soon. It 's slow going in this 

The boys sat down, nothing loth, and waited 
in the launch for the sail-boat to come up. 

"What did he tell us he gave for that boat?" 
asked Roy. 

"Four dollars, I think, and a set of dentist's 
tools," Dick replied. 

"Well, he got stuck! Look at it!" 

At some time, probably a good many years be- 
fore, the Minerva had been new and trim. To-day 
she was a veritable apology for a boat. Some 
twenty feet long, she was blunt of nose, wide of 
beam, almost guiltless of paint. The cockpit was 
only large enough to hold one man and allow the 
tiller to swing, the rest of the deck space being 
occupied by a cabin. One port had been closed 
with a piece of tin through which a length of 
stove-pipe and an elbow projected. The mast 
had apparently not been scraped for years and 
the single sail was gray with age and patched 
from boom to gaff. Once the hull had been white 
and the cabin green, but time and the weather 
had subdued all to a neutral hue that matched the 
old sail and the weather-stained mast. Closer 
acquaintance revealed the fact that most of her 
seams had opened and that she was about as near 
falling apart as anything could be that still held 

The Minerva dipped slowly and clumsily along, 
pushing the sparkling wavelets away from her 
blunt nose, and presently Billy Noon swung her 
head into the wind and brought her alongside the 
launch. He looked quite different to-day. He 
wore a suit of gray clothes which, if a little 
shabby, were very neat and clean, a figured shirt, 
turn-down collar and blue tie and a straw hat 
which had apparently seen more than one sum- 
mer and undergone more than one cleansing. 




Also he had dropped his extravagant manner 
and phraseology. This morning he was just a 
freckled-faced, red-haired, good-natured chap 
with an alert manner and a pair of blue eyes that 
twinkled cleverly and that seemed to take in the 
situation at one glance. Lowering his sail and 
making fast the painter of the cat-boat, Billy 
climbed aboard the launch and threw off his coat. 
Then he rolled up his shirt-sleeves, revealing a 
pair of very muscular brown arms. 

"Had her going, did you?" he asked. 

"Yes," said Dick, "she ran all the way from 
Silver Cove and went finely ; made six miles an 
hour easily." He threw a defiant glance at Chub. 

"To be exact," amended that youth solemnly, 
"six miles and one eighth by the patent log." 

"Well, let 's see," said Billy Noon. "I guess 
there 's nothing very wrong." He picked up the 
handle, fitted it to the fly-wheel and turned her 
over several times without results. Then he 
tested the spark, an operation which the boys 
watched with interest, and got a good spark. 

"Nothing wrong there," he mused. 

"Have you ever run a launch?" asked Roy 

"No, but I operated a gas-engine once for 
about six months and got pretty well acquainted," 
answered Billy. "That was in a pottery." He 
looked over the engine for a moment in silence, 
his sharp eyes twinkling from one part to an- 
other. "Let 's see how the "gasolene is coming. 
Maybe— hello!" 

"What?" asked Dick. 

"Why, your cock under the carbureter has 
worked open and all your gasolene is running 
into the well. No wonder ! Got a monkey- 
wrench ?" 

"No, w r e have n't" answered Dick. 

"Well, the handle will do. All it needs is just a 
tap to tighten it. There ! Did n't you try to 
flood your carbureter?" 

"No," answered Dick a trifle sheepishly. "We 
forgot it the last time." 

"If you had you VI have seen where the trouble 
was, because she would n't have flooded. Now 
let 's see." 

One turn and the engine started. Billy re- 
tarded the spark until he saw that the Minerva 
was following all right, and then pushed the lever 
in. The launch gathered speed and in a moment 
was cutting through the water in a way that 
brought an admiring ejaculation from even Chub. 
But Billy was n't satisfied. 

"That carbureter is n't regulated very well," he 
said. So he went at that, Dick watching, and 
screwed and screwed until he had it to suit him. 
"That 's better," he said. He wiped his hands on 

the piece of waste and looked over the boat. "A 
nice little launch," he said. "And a good engine. 
You 're getting fully two and a half horse-power 
out of it, I guess." 

"How fast do you think she is going?" asked 
Dick eagerly. 

Billy studied a moment. Then, 

"About seven miles," he answered. "You 
ought to make nine with the current and no tow." 

Dick looked triumphantly at Chub. For once 
Chub had nothing to say. Presently Dick ob- 
served : 

"What I don't understand is why she would n't 
start at the wharf. We flooded the carbureter 
dozens of times then." 

"Maybe that was the trouble," was the reply. 
"Your engine was stiff and cold and you got too 
much gasolene into it. That 's just as bad as 
getting none at all. You 've got to have the 
proper mixture of air and gasolene, you know. 
After you 'd turned her over awhile you worked 
the gasolene out and she started. It 's a good 
plan to have a small oil-can with some gasolene 
in it. Then if she does n't start with three or 
four turns you can open your relief-cock and 
squirt a few drops into the cylinder. That '11 
start her all right." 

For the next few minutes Dick took a short 
course in gas-engine operating and by the time he 
had asked all the questions he wanted to they 
were approaching the Ferry Hill landing and a 
disconsolate figure in the shade of the boat-house. 

"There 's Harry," said Chub. "I '11 bet she 's 
mad !" 

But she was n't; only grieved and reproachful 
until they told their troubles to her, and after 
that vastly interested and sympathetic. Harry, 
having just become a passenger, was by no 
means ready to end the cruise, demanding that 
the launch should go up the river for a ways. 
The boys, however, being for the moment firm 
believers in punctuality as regards meals, com- 
promised on a voyage around the island. So they 
went up along the inner channel, swung around 
Far Island, which, as every experienced mariner 
knows, lies nor'-nor'-west of Point Harriet, and, 
navigating skilfully past the dangerous shoals 
which lie around The Grapes, stopped off Hood's 
Hill, while Billy Noon returned to the Minerva 
and, with the aid of a broken oar, reached the 
beach. The boys were properly grateful for his 
help, Dick thanking him profusely. 

"That 's all right," said Billy, as he pulled the 
nose of the Minerva on to the beach and carried 
the painter up to the nearest tree. "Glad I hap- 
pened along. Any time you want any help you 
yell for me." 




"Thanks," answered Dick. "And — and come 
and see us." 

"Yes, you must be neighborly," added Harry. 
Billy nodded and waved his hand, and Dick, with 
a bit of a swagger, took up the handle and turned 
the wheel. The engine answered at once and the 


launch chugged off toward the lower end of the 

"Is n't he splendid?" asked Harry admiringly. 

"Who do you mean?" asked Chub. "Dick?" 

"No, Mr. Noon, of course." 

"Well, he was certainly Johnny-on-the-Spot to- 
day," Chub replied. "He ought to be called the 
Licensed Engineer instead of the Licensed 
Poet. Say, Roy, do you believe all the yarns he 
tells? Some of them seem pretty stiff ones." 

"About what?" asked Roy, drowning Harry's 
indignant ejaculation. 

"Why, about being a circus clown and playing 
in the band and being a dentist and running an 
engine in a pottery and — and all that. What do 
the}' want with an engine in a pottery, anyhow?" 
"Well, I was never in a pot- 
tery, but I don't see why they 
would n't need an engine. As 
for the other things, why, you 
saw those trousers of his; if 
any one but a clown would wear 
them I miss my guess, Chub !" 

"That 's so, but he can't be 
more than thirty or so." 

"Bet you he 's nearer thirty- 
five," said Dick from the wheel. 
"Anyhow, he must have spent 
a pretty busy life if he 's been 
all the things he says he has !" 

"Papa says he 's the — the — I 
think he said the 'smoothest' — 
book agent he ever met," said 
Harry eagerly. "I told him 
about his being a clown and a 
poet, and I recited the verses he 
made up, and papa said they 
were very good verses for a 

"Oh, he 's all right." said 
Chub. "I have n't anything 
against him, only I do think 
he 's had a rather eventful life, 
so to speak. He seems a pretty 
decent chap, though." 

By this time the launch had 
passed Lookout, having practi- 
cally completed the circuit of 
the island, and Dick turned off 
the switch and stopped the en- 
gine. The launch floated softly 
into the smooth water of Vic- 
tory Cove and Dick turned its 
nose to the beach. Then, with a 
little grating sound the bow slid 
up on the sand and Roy, painter 
in hand, jumped ashore. 
"That rope belongs to the fellow at the wharf, 
by the way." said Dick. "I must take it back to 
him. I '11 have to get some rope of my own. And 
I need some tools, and an oil-can, and an anchor 
and lots of things !" 

"How about an engineer?" asked Chub slyly. 
Dick looked hurt and made no reply, and when 
they were out on the beach Chub threw an 
arm over his shoulder and playfully squeezed 
his neck. It was hard to get angry with Chub. 




"Don't flare up, Dickums," he said. "I was 
only fooling. You got the hang of it finely." 

Dick looked mollified. 

"It takes a while to learn," he said, "but I bet 
I '11 be able to run that boat to the Queen's taste 
in a week." 

"Of course you will," answered Chub heartily. 
Then they set about getting dinner. Chub de- 
clared that he could taste gaso- 
lene in everything, but Dick was 
able to prove that he had washed 
his hands well before beginning 
the cooking and so Chub's asser- 
tion was received with con- 
tempt. From where they sat 
they could see the launch. Dick 
had shoved her off after making 
the painter fast to a tree and 
now she was floating motionless 
on the mirror-like surface of the 
cove. Dick's glances sought her 
frequently during dinner, and 
presently he said : 

"I wish they had painted her 
white instead of black." 

"It would have been much 
prettier," agreed Harry. 

"We could paint her our- 
selves," said Chub. "It would n't 
be much of a job." 

"That 's so. I '11 get some 
paint the next time we go to the 
Cove and we '11 do it. We 'd 
have to haul her out, though, I 

"No, we would n't," answered 
Roy. "I 've seen them paint 
boats in the water. You get a 
weight like a big rock or some- 
thing, and put it on one side of 
the boat and that raises the other 
side out of the water. Y r ou only 
have to paint to the water-line, 
you know. Then when you 've 
done one side you change the 
weight over and do the other side. It 's easy." 

"All but getting the weight out there," said Chub. 

"We can find a big stone and put it in the row- 
boat and take it out to the launch," said Dick. 

"Yes, we could do that all right," agreed Chub. 
"By the way, Dickums, what are you going to 
call her? I 've thought of a dandy name !" 

"I dare say," answered Roy sarcastically. "The 
'Thomas Eaton,' — eh?" 

"You wrong me," said Chub. "Besides, I 
would n't allow my name to be associated with 
such a badly-behaved boat as that." 

"I think she behaves beautifully!" exclaimed 

"You saw her at her best," said Chub. "She 
acted all right after the Engineer-Poet got at 

"What 's the name. Chub?" Dick asked. 

" 'The Old Harry,' " answered Chub. "That 's 
the way she behaved." 



"That 's not so bad," laughed Roy. Harry 
looked doubtful. 

"I don't think I 'd like that," she said finally. 
"People might think it was named after me." 

"Yes," said Dick, apparently pleased to find an 
objection to the name. "Besides, I had about de- 
cided on a name myself." 

"What is it?" asked Chub. 

"Well — have you noticed the sound she makes 


when she 's going 

"No," replied Chub, "she was going 
short time that I did n't have a chance." 

such a 




"She says 'puff, puff, puff!' like that," said Roy. 

"No, she does n't," answered Dick. "I thought 
that was it at first, but what she really says is 
'pup, pup, pup, pup, pup, pup !' So I 'm going to 
call her the 'Pup.' " 

"That 's all right," said Chub admiringly. And 
Roy agreed. But Harry objected. 

"I think it 's a perfectly horrid name," she de- 
clared. "You 're just fooling, are n't you, 

"Not a bit of it," answered Dick stoutly. "I 
think it's a fine name." And in the end, despite 
Harry's negative vote, the name was formally 

"We '11 have a christening," suggested Roy. 
"And Harry can be sponsor — if that 's what you 
call it — and break a bottle of — of something over 
her bow." 

"It '11 have to be tomato catsup, I guess," 
laughed Dick. "That 's about all we 've got." 

"I refuse to have the catsup wasted," said 
Chub. "Besides, it would be terribly messy. 
We '11 find an empty bottle and fill it with water. 
They christen lots of boats with water nowa- 

So after dinner the ceremony took place. They 
rowed out to the launch in the skiff, Harry 
tightly clasping a bottle of river water. They 
had found the bottle on the beach. The lettering 
on one side proclaimed the fact that it had at one 
time been filled with "Barnard's Lucky Dis- 
covery for Coughs and Colds." When they had 
all climbed aboard the launch Chub had an idea. 

"Look here," he exclaimed, "we 're not doing 
this right. She ought to be christened with gas- 
olene !" 

"Of course!" cried the others in chorus. So 
the water was poured out and the bottle was held 
under the carbureter and filled with gasolene. 
Then Roy and Dick and Chub grouped them- 
selves as imposingly as possible on the small 
space of deck at the bow, maintaining their pre- 
carious positions by holding on to each other, and 
Harry re-embarked in the rowboat, working it 
around to the bow of the launch. 

"The band will now play," said Chub. "Turn, 
tumty, turn ; Turn, tumty, turn ; Turn — " 

"That 's the wedding march, you idiot," 
laughed Roy. So Chub struck up "Hail, Colum- 
bia" instead. 

"Now," he said, "we will listen to an address 
by the Honorable Roy Porter. Hear! Hear!" 
And he clapped his hands so strenuously that he 
very nearly precipitated the entire company into 
the water. The Honorable Roy Porter not be- 
ing inclined to fulfil his portion of the program, 
Commodore Dickums Somes was called upon. 

Vol. XXXV.— 87. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," began Dick. "We are 
met here on a memorable occasion, one which — 
which will long live in the — in the — " 

"Memories of those present," prompted Chub. 

"We are about to christen the pride of these 
waters, a boat which will in future — in future — " 

"Hear! Hear!" shouted Chub appreciatively. 

"In future make for itself," continued Dick, 
encouraged by the applause, "a name which will 
become famous from — from Poughkeepsie to Al- 
bany, — aye, from Long Island Sound to Lake 
George ! We are about to place another star in 
the galaxy which — which has for generations up- 
held the supremacy of the American nation at 
home and abroad, by land and by sea, in peace 
and in war !" 

The applause was almost deafening, largely 
due to the fact that Roy had one arm around 
Dick's shoulders and was clapping his hands 
within three inches of his nose. On the other 
side Chub shouted "Bravo!" into his ear, while at 
his feet, so to speak, Harry had let go of the 
launch that she might have both hands to applaud 
with and was now squirming undignifiedly across 
the gunwale trying to reach it again. Dick 
warmed to his work. He threw back his head 
with a noble gesture and tried to thrust his right 
hand into the bosom of his negligee shirt. [Chub 
called them "neglected" shirts.] But as this 
would have seriously upset his audience he was 
forcibly restrained. 

"Upon these beautiful tranquil waters, upon 
the bosom of this historic river this graceful boat 
will add the — the finishing touch to Nature's 
work. Breasting the curling waves, tossed by the 
singing winds — " 

"Hooray!" yelled Chub. "Hip, hip, hooray!" 

"Singing winds — " 

"Tiger! Tiger! Tiger !" Roy vociferated. 

"Winds, this lovely creation of the hands of — " 

"Somes! Somes! Somes! Speech! Speech!" 
cried Chub, and Harry, having rescued herself, 
joined the hilarity. Dick gave it up and with a 
low bow to the mythical multitude which lined 
the shore of Victory Cove, he joined Roy in the 
singing of "The Star Spangled Banner." Of 
course Chub and Harry lent what assistance they 
could, and for several minutes discord reigned 
supreme. Then, having gained the attention of 
the audience, Chub announced : 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to 
present to you the Honorable Thomas H. Eaton, 
Secretary of the Navy. Hooray ! Eaton ! 
Eaton !" Chub bowed. "Ladies and gentlemen, 
citizens of Camp Torohadik : It gives me great 
pleasure to be with you to-day. I have traveled 
a long distance and feel that I am amply repaid. 




I thank you for your invitation, for the honor 
you have done me and for the evidences of your 
good-will. This is indeed a suspicious — I should 
say, auspicious occasion. Never before, possibly, 
since the founding of our glorious Republic has 
so much intelligence, so much worth, so much 
beauty been met together as I see before me. 
Ladies and gentlemen, we are wonderfully privi- 
leged. Generations hence posterity will look back 
with reverential awe upon this — this grand occa- 

"Oh, that 's beautiful, Chub!" cried Harry. 
Chub faltered. 

"Er — er — and so I thank you, ladies and gentle- 
men, from the bottom of my heart for the honor 
which you have seen fit to confer upon me. I 
thank you, I thank you." Chub bowed to three 
points of the compass and the launch rocked un- 
comfortably. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, 
according to time-honored precedent, a bottle of 
■ — er — of gasolene will be broken over the bow 
and the boat will be named. I take pleasure in 
introducing to you Miss Harriet Emery." 

Harry climbed unsteadily to her feet in the 
rowboat and bowed to the applause. Then she 
raised the bottle of gasolene and brought it down 
smartly against the bow of the boat. 

"I name you Pup," she cried. 

There was a tinkling of glass, a series of shrill 
barks from Chub and the ceremony was at an 

Chapter XII 


After the dinner things had been cleared up 
there was naturally but one thing to do, and that 
was to go out in the Pup. So they did it. The 
engine showed some unwillingness to start, but 
relented presently and they were off. They had 
no boats in tow this time and were, besides, going 
with the current, and the way the Pup slid along 
brought joy to Dick's heart. 

"Is n't she a great little Pup?" he asked, beam- 
ingly. And they all agreed that she was, even 

"The Pup," observed the latter impressively, 
"is a fine bark." And they groaned at his pun 

They had an exciting time in the village while 
Dick made his purchases and ordered his flags. 
Chub was full of suggestions and wanted Dick 
to buy all sorts of things from a pocket compass 
to a pair of davits by which to sling the canoe 
on to the launch and use it for a tender. Dick 
got a gallon of white paint, warranted to dry 
hard in twelve hours, and four brushes, Harry 
having expressed a determination to aid in the 
work of turning the black Pup into a white one. 

When they were ready to leave the wharf Dick 
produced his small oil-can filled with gasolene 
and set it beside him while he prepared to turn 
the fly-wheel over. Whether it was the sight 
ox that can I can't say, but it 's a fact that the 
engine started at the first turn. They ran up the 
river in the late afternoon sunlight, a little wind 
which had risen since noon kicking the water 
into tiny white-caps which caught the rays and 
turned to gold and copper. The breeze rumpled 
their hair and tingled their cheeks, and to what 
Chub called "the merry barking of the Pup," 
they sailed home past the shadowed shore and 
dropped anchor (it was a folding one and 
weighed seven pounds) in Victory Cove. 

"That was a dandy sail!" exclaimed Harry, 
her cheeks ruddy under their tan. And they all 
agreed with her and vied with each other in say- 
ing nice things about the Pup. And Dick beamed, 
and beamed, and everything was lovely. They had 
purchased provisions in the village, and supper 
that evening was in the nature of a banquet, there 
being a large steak, Saratoga chips, big rolls still 
warm from the baker's oven, cucumbers (there 
was n't any vinegar, but no one seemed to care) 
and a blueberry pie. And there were present 
appetites to do justice to the banquet. 

Afterwards, just as Roy had lighted the camp- 
fire, which, to tell the truth was necessary to dis- 
tract the attention of the mosquitoes, there was a 
hail and Billy Noon appeared. He joined the 
group and listened interestedly to Dick's account 
of the afternoon's experience with the launch. 

"You won't have much trouble with her now, 
I guess," he said. "Gas-engines are kind of 
queer things, but there 's generally a reason for 
it when they don't act right. The only trouble 
is in discovering the reason. There 's a reason 
for everything if you can only find it." 

"Have you composed any poetry lately?" 
asked Harry when the conversation had wan- 
dered away from launches and gas-engines. 
Billy shook his head. 

"No, my dear young lady," he answered. 

"There 's been no time for building rhyme, 
For I 've been very busy. 
My daily work I must not shirk 
For — for — " 

"For if you do you '11 get dizzy," suggested 

"Thank you," laughed Billy. " 'Busy' 's a bad 
word to rhyme to. I ought to have known betfer 
than to use it." 

"Did — did it just come natural for you to 
make poetry?" asked Harry. "Or did you have 
to learn? Please tell us all about it!" 



"I guess it came natural," was the reply. 

"I wish I could do it," Harry said wistfully. 
"But I can't. I 've tried and tried. I never can 
think of any rhymes. Do you think I could 
learn, Mr. Noon?" 

"I dare say you could," answered Billy. "I 
never did much of it until I joined the Great In 7 
dian Chief Medicine Company. Then I sort of 
worked it up." 

"Did you write advertisements?" asked Chub. 

"No. You see we traveled around from one 
place to another in a couple of big wagons sell- 
ing this medicine. It was fine medicine, too, if 
you believed the wrappers and the Boss. It 
cured anything from freckles to laziness and cost 
a dollar a bottle, or six bottles for five dollars 
with your horoscope thrown in. There were five 
of us with the troupe and we dressed like Indians 
and talked five languages including the North 
of Ireland. I was Wallapoola, the great Choc- 
taw Poet, and my part was to stand under the 
gasolene torch at the end of the wagon and 
make rhymes on the names of the folks in the 
audience. That pleased them, generally, and 
they 'd pay out their dollar, each, and go away 
happy with a bottle of Great Indian. Some of 
the rhymes were pretty bad, especially at first, 
and now and then I 'd just simply get floored as 
I was awhile ago. It was easy enough as long 
as they gave us names like Smith and Jones and 
White and Brown, but one night a big, lanky far- 
mer pushed his way to the front and told the 
Doctor — he was the general Boss, you know — 
that he 'd buy six bottles ff I 'd make a rhyme for 
his name. I scented trouble right away and 
tried to warn the Doctor, but he was n't wor- 
ried a bit. He just laughed and said there 
was n't a word in the English language I 
could n't find a rhyme for. And then he asked 
the farmer what his name was. 

" 'Humphrey,' says the farmer. 

"The Doctor laughed scornfully. T thought 
it was something difficult,' he says. 'But that 's 
an easy one for the Choctaw Poet, that is — Why, 
gentlemen, I assure you — ' But I was humping 
up and down on my toes the way I did when 
courting the Muse and saying 'Ugh ! Ugh !' 
which was all the Indian I knew. And the Doc- 
tor soon awoke to the fact that I was n't pleased 
with the job. So says he, 'While the Poet is 
polishing up his pome we '11 have some music 
from the orchestra.' Well, the orchestra, which 
was a banjo, guitar, and accordion, gave (hem 
some rag-time and I kept on dancing around on 
my toes and doing a lot of hard thinking. I 
wanted to resign my lucrative position right 
then, I tell you. But the Doctor was scowling 

hard at me and the big, lanky farmer was grin- 
ning up like a catfish. The orchestra got through 
and I was trying to make the Doctor see that I 
wanted more time for contemplation when the 
rhyme came to me. It was n't much of a one, 
but it had to do. So I stopped dancing and 
looked scornfully at the farmer. And says I : 

" ' At a dollar a bottle it 's cheap, you know, 
But you are in luck, Mr. Humphrey ; 
It 's six for five to you, and so 
You see you are getting some free.' " 

"That was fine !" cried Chub above the laugh- 
ter. "Did he buy the medicine?" 

"He had to," answered Billy. "He claimed 
that the rhyme ought fo have been one word, but 
the Doctor quoted authorities to him so fast he 
soon had to give in. You could n't very often 
floor the Doctor. Besides, we had the crowd 
with us. So Mr. Humphrey gave up his five dol- 
lars and went off growling with six bottles of 
Great Indian, I don't know how much good it 
did him ; anyhow, it could n't do him any harm, 
I guess, for it was "guaranteed harmless." 
We had a big sale that evening." 

*Was that before you joined the circus?" 
asked Chub with elaborate carelessness, nudging 

"Yes, several years," answered Billy. "I 
was n't with the Great Indian Medicine Com- 
pany more than six weeks." 

"Why did you leave ?" asked Roy. "Did you 
run out of rhymes?" 

"No," answered Billy reminiscently, "but I got 
my man and — I mean I found another job that I 
liked better. After that," he continued hurriedly, 
"I found a chap out in Big Bow, Iowa, that was 
going out of the dentist business and I bought 
him out, stock, good will and all. The stock was 
a set of tools, a broken-down wagon, and a 
forlorn-looking gray horse about sixteen years 
old. I traveled around for awhile, but the fellow 
only gave me three lessons and so I was n't up to 
much except pulling teeth. But there was n't 
much money in dentistry, and I sold the horse 
and wagon in Keokuk and came East." 

"Then what did you do?" asked Chub. 

"Oh, I tried my hand at several things after 
that. Nothing particular, though." 

Billy did n't seem to want to continue the sub- 
ject and so Chub, with a wink at Roy, desisted. 
Dick asked Billy how he was getting on with his 

"Pretty well," was the answer. "I had a long 
tramp this afternoon for nothing, though. I 
went about three miles up the river to a place 
called Hutchins and then walked about eight 



miles. Ever been over in that part of the 

The boys said that they had n't. 

"Well, it 's a forsaken country ; I only found 
about six houses all the way and did n't sell a 
thing. Do you get around much on shore?" 

Roy, explained that they had prospected the 
country around Ferry Hill pretty well for several 
miles in each direction, and Billy asked a good 
many questions about it ; whether it was thickly 
settled, whether the folks were well-off or poor, 
whether they had ever come across any camps 
or huts. They answered his questions as best 
they could, wondering somewhat at the character 
of them, and finally their guest bade them good 
night and took his departure. There was silence 
for a minute or two around the camp-fire after 
he had gone. Then Chub spoke. 

"Say, what do you think of him?" he asked. 

"Blessed if I know," answered Roy. "Accord- 
ing to his story he has been a little of everything 
at some time or other. And what do you sup- 
pose he wanted to know so much about the coun- 
try around here for ?" 

"Probably wanted to find out whether it was 
worth while going round to sell Billings' 'Won- 
ders of the Deep', " answered Dick. 

"I don't believe he 's a book agent at all!" ex- 
claimed Roy. 

"What? Then what is he?" asked Dick. But 
Roy only shook his head. 

"I don't know. But I don't believe he 's what 
he says he is." 

"Why, he sold some books to papa !" cried 

"Have you seen them?" Chub asked. 

"No, they have n't come yet. He does n't 
carry them with him. He just takes orders, you 
know, and the publishers send the books to you 
by express. He could n't carry them all." 

"How much do you have to pay down?" asked 
Roy eagerly. 

"Not a cent, if you please," answered Harry. 

"Huh !" muttered Chub. "That just shows 
how smart he is." 

"I think you 're perfectly horrid, Chub Eaton," 
• said Harry. "Mr. Noon is just as nice as he can 
be, and very — very gentlemanly !" 

"That 's so," allowed Chub. "He seems a 
mighty decent sort, but— but just the same I 
don't believe he 's a book agent. There 's a mys- 
tery about him." 

Harry's eyes brightened. 

"Oh, do you think so?" she asked eagerly. 
"Perhaps he 's a Lord or something traveling in 
— in — " 

"Incognito," aided Roy. 

"Yes," cried Harry. "Have n't you noticed 
that he talks in a sort of — sort of foreign way 

"Caw-n't say I have," Roy laughed. "Although 
now and then there 's just a suggestion of brogue 
about his talk." 

"The idea!" Harry said indignantly. "He 's 
not Irish a bit ! I think he 's either English or — 
or Scotch." 

"Probably Lord Kilmarnock looking for a 
wealthy bride," said Chub. "I '11 ask him to- 
morrow if he has his kilts with him." 

"And his bagpipe," Dick added. 

"Come now, it 's a shame to spoil Harry's ro- 
mance," Roy remonstrated. "We '11 call him His 
Lordship until we learn what he really is." 

"He 's already been the 'Licensed Poet,' 
'W.N.,' 'Seth Billings,' and 'Mr. William Noon,' " 
said Chub. "So I suppose another name or two 
won't matter. There 's just one thing I would n't 
think of calling him, though." 

"What 's that?" asked Roy. 

"Book agent," Chub answered dryly. 

(To be continued.) 

It 's snowing hard as it can snow— 

The ground is almost white, 
And all our pretty orchard grass 

Is hidden out of sight. 
The wind is blowing from the south, 

And coming good and strong, 
You 'd never think a southern wind 

Would bring the snow along ! 
The sun is shining warm and bright — = 

The flowers bloom in throngs — 
The birds are flying to and fro, 

And singing happy songs. 
And if upon their feathers soft 

The snowy flakes should fall, 
They shake them off and sing some more, 

And never mind at all ! 
The flowers, too, don't care a bit, 

It only makes them grow — 
Because, you see, this summer storm 

Is apple-blossom snozv! 


The Roy^l Qrcus 

ft ii) Jungle ville 

Brtwn by .I."WEfc.beT\ 


Jhcie , King Leo, ruler or tnc Jungle,'tbe r&mous a.crobsJ:s 
known a.s tbe Dodos-very ancient birds." 

This difficult fc^._yourMyesly, represents tbe 
glittering TMnhow or skipping rope" 


16G m m jarrrw- 

:'\^?ik^r ' /-^ " " % 

BeholdLyour Majesty, %.t 1m t 
the missing link ! " 

King Leo; Encore- Bt&vo! Encore f " 




Now steady there, my skittish bay ! 

And slow, my little sorrel ! 
If you are going to jump that way, 

Right here there '11 be a quarrel. 
Your harness is too strong to break, 

My weight is but a feather ; 
Think what a stylish team you 'd make 

If you would pull together ! 

That off-horse has a wicked heel, 

The other's eye is frisky ; 
If I were weaker I should feel 

The job a trifle risky. 
My gracious, how they took that curve ! 

I hardly look for trouble, 
And yet, it takes a lot of nerve 

To drive these ponies double. 

Whoa, there, you prancing bay, — be done ! 

Fie, sorrel, quit your shying ! 
I just believe you 'd bolt and run 

At harmless leaves a-flying. 
Oh, dear, the reins are slipping ! There ! 

I 'm really doubtful whether 
It 's safe to break a brand-new pair 

Of colts in windy weather ! 





northwest of our country live the 
or Nez Perce Indians, a powerful 

Far in the 


tribe. Chopunnish is an Indian word, but "Nez 

Perce" is French and means "nose-pierced" or 

pierced nose. These Indians used to pierce their 

noses and wear rings in them. 

The men of the tribe are large and tall and 
strong, and they are very proud and warlike. 
Every year they went far away, even one thou- 
sand miles, to hunt buffalo, while the women 
planted little patches of Indian corn, and the boys 
rode ponies or fished for salmon in the rivers. 
Now and then the Nez Perces fought, as all In- 
dians do, and their enemies were especially the 
Black-Feet and Snakes ; but they had never killed 
a white man. Governor Stevens, one of the first 

white governors, gave these Indians a large tract 
of land bigger than New York State, where they 
lived and were very happy. After a while some 
missionaries came to live among them and 
started a big school where many Indian children 
studied and learned the white men's ways. Among 
these were the two sons of a powerful chief 
called Old Joseph. Young Joseph and Ollicut 
went to the school for a short time, but while they 
were still very small their father became angry 
with another chief and moved off to Wallowa, a 
place far away on the Nez Perce Reservation. 
Then the white people began to see that this 
country was a good place to live in, and most 
of the Indians agreed to sell part of their big res- 
ervation and live on a part called the Lapwai 
lands, or reservation, but after this was arranged 
it was found that several bands of Nez Perces 
lived outside of this smaller reservation — the 

Vol. XXXV.— 88-8 

Pronounced, nay pai?say. 




White Birds under their leader, White Bird; 
other Indians under a chief called Looking-Glass ; 
several other bands, and some Indians led by 


Young Joseph, who had become their chief after 
Old Joseph died. These many bands of Nez Per- 
ces came together and made Young Joseph their 
chief. They said that the other Nez Perces had 
no right to sell their land, and that they did not 
wish to leave their homes. 

In April, 1877, I took some soldiers and went to 
a fort near Walla Walla, Washington, many miles 
south of Fort Lapwai. Here I met Ollicut, who 
came to represent his 
brother, who was sick. At 
his request I agreed to meet 
Joseph and his friends or 
Tillicums in twelve days at 
Lapwai, Idaho, and we all 
hoped that the meeting 
would result in a good 
peace. When I arrived at 
Fort Lapwai twelve days 
later an immense tent was 
ready for the Council. Jo- 
seph, with about fifty In- 
dians, had spent the night 
near-by in handsome In- 
dian lodges. His many 
ponies, watched by Indian 
lads, were feeding on the 
banks of Lapwai Creek. 
All was excitement, as with 
some officers I waited for 
the Indians to come that 
sunny morning to the "big 
talk." At last they came, 
riding slowly up the grassy 
valley, a long rank of men, 
all on ponies, followed by 
the women and children. 
Joseph and Ollicut rode side 
by side. The faces of all 
the Indians were painted 
bright red, the paint cover- 
ing the partings of the hair, 
the braids of the warriors' 
hair tied with strips of 
white and scarlet. No 
weapons were in sight ex- 
cept tomahawk-pipes and 
sheath knives in their belts. 
Everything was orna- 
mented with beads. The 
women wore bright-colored 
shawls and skirts of cotton 
to the top of their mocca- 

They all came up and 
formed a line facing our 
square inclosure ; then they 
began a song. The song was wild and shrill 
and fierce, yet so plaintive at times it was almost 
like weeping, and made us sorry for them, al- 
though we could not but be glad that there were 
not five hundred instead of fifty. 

They turned off .to the right and swept around 



outside our fence, keeping up the strange song all 
the way around the fort, where it broke up into 
irregular bubblings like mountain streams tumb- 
ling over stones. 

Then the women and children rode away at a 
gallop and the braves, leaving their ponies, came 
in all in a single file with Joseph ahead. They 
passed us, each one formally shaking hands, and 
then we sat down in the big tent, and the pow-wow 
began. I spoke to Joseph and told him that his 
brother Ollicut had said to me twelve days ago 
in Walla Walla that he wished to see me — now I 
was ready to listen to what he wished to say. 
Joseph then said that White Bird's Indians were 
coming; they were to be here soon and we must 
not be in a hurry, but wait for them. So we put 
off the "big talk" till the next day. 

Again the Indians went through the same per- 
formance and again we were ready. White Bird 
had arrived and with a white eagle wing in his 
hand sat beside Joseph. Joseph introduced him 
to me, saying: "This is White Bird; it is the first 
time he has seen you." There was also an old 
chief, Too-hul-hul-sote, who hated white men. 
When they were seated again I told them that the 
President wanted. them all to come up to a part 
of Lapwai, where nobody lived, and take up the 
vacant reservations, for the other lands had been 
given to the white men and other Indians. 

Joseph said : "Too-hul-hul-sote will speak." 

The old man was very angry and said : "What 
person pretends to divide the land and put me on 
it?" I answered: "I am the man." Then among 
the Indians all about me signs of anger began to 
appear. Looking-Glass dropped his gentle style 
and made rough answers; White Bird, hiding his 
face behind that eagle wing, said he had not been 
brought up to be governed by white men, and 
Joseph began to finger his tomahawk and his eyes 
flashed. Too-hul-hul-sote said fiercely: "The In- 
dians may do as they like, I am not going on that 

Then I spoke to them. I told them I was going 
to look at the vacant land and they should come 
with me. The old man, Too-hul-hul-sote, should 
stay at the fort with the colonel till we came back. 
He arose and cried : "Do you want to frighten me 
about my body?" but I said: "I will leave you 
with the colonel," and at a word a soldier led the 
brave old fellow out of the tent and gave him to 
a guard. 

Then Joseph quieted the Indians and agreed to 
go with me. We did not hasten our ride, but 
started after a few days. We then rode over 
forty miles together. Once Joseph said to me : 
"If we come and live here what will you give us? 
— schools, teachers, houses, churches, and gar- 

dens?" I said, "Yes." "Well!" said Joseph, 
"those are just the things we do not want. The 
earth is our mother, and do you think we want to 
dig and break it? No, indeed! We want to hunt 
buffalo and fish for salmon, not plow and use the 

Well ! After riding all over the country the 
Indians said it was a good country, and they 


agreed to come and live there. The land was 
staked out, and Too-hul-hul-sote set free, and it 
was arranged that in thirty days all the outside 
Indians should be on the reservation, and we 
parted the best of friends. 

Now, about this time Joseph's wife was taken 
sick, so he left his band and stayed away some 
distance with her in his lodge. While he was 
away some of the young warriors came to a 
farm-house and began to talk with two white 
men. For some reason they did not agree, and a 





young Indian tried to take a gun out of the far- 
mer's hand. At once the farmer was frightened 
and called to the other white man for help. That 
white man ran up and began to shoot, killing the 
Indian. Now began all sorts of trouble. The In- 
dians stole horses, burned houses, robbed travel- 
ers, and the whole country was wild with terror. 

Joseph at first did not know what to do, but at 
last he broke his agreement with me and all the 
outside Indians went on the war-path. For many 
months there were battles — battles — battles ! Jo- 
seph was a splendid warrior, and with many of 
Uncle Sam's good soldiers he fought. I followed 
him for over fourteen hundred miles, over moun- 
tains and valleys, always trying to make him give 
up. At the last I sent two Nez Perce friends, 
"Captain John" and "Indian George," to Chief 
Joseph's stronghold in the little Rockies with a 
white flag to ask him to come in and surrender. 

Joseph sent back word: "I have done all I can; 

I now trust my people and myself to your 

So the surrender was arranged, and just before 
night on October 5, 1877, Joseph, followed by his 
people, many of whom were lame and wounded, 
came up to me and offered his rifle. 

Beside me stood General Nelson A. Miles, who 
had helped me and who had fought the last bat- 
tle, and so I told Joseph that he, General Miles, 
would take the rifle for me. 

Thus ended the great Nez Perce War, and Jo- 
seph went after a time to live with Moses, an- 
other chief of whom I am about to tell you. 

Twenty-seven years later I met Chief Joseph, 
the greatest Indian warrior I ever fought with, at 
the Carlisle Indian School, and there he made a 


speech : "For a long time," he said, "I did want 
to kill General Howard, but now I am glad to 
meet him and we are good friends!" 


In the northwest of our great country there are 
so many different tribes of Indians that I cannot 
begin to tell you their names, but they were often 
divided in this way. Those who lived on reser- 
vations were called "Reservation Indians" and 
those who did not "Outside Indians." Now, 
Moses was chief of a great many tribes of Out- 
side Indians and he was a very great chief. Of 
course, Moses was not his Indian name, but Gov- 
ernor Stevens gave it to him long ago and every 
one called him so, indeed, he seemed to have for- 
gotten his Indian name and called himself Moses. 
He was a very handsome man, tall and straight, 
and always well dressed. He usually wore a 
buckskin coat and trousers, and handsome beaded 

moccasins, and a broad, light felt hat with a thin 
veil encircling it. He always had a leather belt 
around his waist, in which he carried a long knife 
and pistol holster, the ivory pistol knob in plain 

Now, Moses had led his Indians in many bat- 
tles, both against Indians and white men, and ev- 
erybody knew that he was a brave warrior and 
could fight. Indeed, in 1858 one of the very 
fiercest battles we ever had with the Indians took 
place when Moses was the Indian war-chief and 
General George Wright commanded the United 
States soldiers at the "Battle of Yakima River." 
But after Mr. Wilbur became the Indian agent 
things changed, for the Indians loved him and 




called him Father Wilbur, and Moses decided not 
to fight the white men any more. 

Many times Moses was asked to go on a res- 
ervation, but he always replied that he would live 
on a reservation, but not with Indians he did not 
know. Many tribes had asked him to be their 
chief, and he wanted "Washington" to give him 
the land in a bend of the Columbia River for a 
reservation. It was waste land, he said, where no 
white people wanted to live, but the Indians 
would be happy there, he knew. When Chief 
Joseph led the Nez Perces against us in the many 
battles I have told you about, he sent often to 
Moses to ask him to come and fight too, but 
Moses always said "No." Still this chief did not 
have an easy time, for many people said he was a 
bad Indian, and at last he wrote me a letter which 
I have kept many years and which I am sure you 
would like to see. 

I Moses Chief want you to know what my Tum-tum is 
in regard to my tribes and the white people. Almost 
every day there come to me reports that the soldiers from 
Walla Walla are coming to take me away from this part of 
the country. My people are constantly excited and I 
want to know from you the truth so I can tell my people 
and have everything quiet once more among us. Since 
the last war, we have had reports up here that I Moses am 
going to fight if the soldiers come ; this makes my heart 
sick. I have said I will not fight and I say to you again 
I will not fight and when you hear the whites say Moses 
will fight, you tell them no. I have always lived here upon 
the Columbia River. I am getting old and I do not want 
to see my blood shed on any part of the country. Chief 
Joseph wanted me and my people to help him. His offers 
were numerous. I told him no — never. I watched my 
people faithfully during his war and kept them at home. I 
told them all when the war broke out that they should not 
steal ; if any of them did I would report them to Father 
Wilbur. During all the past year I have not allowed any 
stranger Indians to come here fearing they would raise all 
excitement with my Indians. I am not a squaw — I know 
how to fight, but I tell you the truth. I do not want to 
fight and have always told my people so. It is about time 
to begin our spring work as we all raise lots of vegetables 
and wheat and corn and trade with Chinamen and get 

I wish you would write me and tell me the truth so I 
can tell my people so they will be contented once more 
and go to work in their gardens. I do not want to go on 
the Yakima Reservation as I told Colonel Watkins last 
summer. I wish to stay where I have always lived and 
where my parents died. I wish you would write to me 
and send by the bearer of this letter. And be sure I am a 
friend and tell you the truth. 


Signed : Moses X Chief. 


I replied that the Bannock Indians were giving 
me much trouble, but that when I got back I 
would arrange a meeting. In the meantime I 
would depend on him to keep peace. 

Now, during this time it was hard for Moses, 
for two sets of Indians gave him trouble. The 

"Dreamers," led by Smoholly, tried to make 
Moses think that he should join many tribes and 
fight the white men, for, said they, all the Indians 
who have gone to the happy hunting-lands will 
rise from the dead before long and join us, so you 
must join, too. But Moses would not fight. Then 
some of those Indians who were fighting crossed 
over the Columbia River and, finding a family by 
the name of Perkins living far from any settle- 
ment, killed every member of the family and 
burned their house and barn. 

Some Indians told the white men that Moses 
was a friend of these dreadful Warriors and was 
protecting them. The white people of Yakima 
City believed these idle tales and even accused 
Moses to me, but when I met him and we talked 
it over, he said that he would prove that what he 
said was true, for he would help find the three 
Cayuse Indians who had done this wrong and 
give them up to the Yakima courts. 

Always true to his word, he took with him 
thirty-five Indians and began to hunt. One even- 
ing Moses and his band camped for the night, and 
fearing no harm, were fast asleep, when a large 
body of white men surrounded them. The'se men 
seized Moses and bound him with cords, putting 
irons on his wrists, but still he would not fight 
and told all his Indians to point their rifles to the 
ground and offer no resistance. He said after- 
ward that he gave up his pistol, knife, and gun 
and prepared to die, but instead he was taken to 
Yakima City and put in the jail or "Skookum 
House," as the Indians call it. Hera Mr. Wilbur 
promised enough money to make them take off 
the irons, but still Moses was a prisoner. Then 
he said : "Let the one-armed soldier-chief, Gen- 
eral Howard, know I am a prisoner. He is my 
friend and as soon as he knows it he will set me 
free." And this he constantly repeated. I was 
far away when the news reached me, but I came 
immediately and ordered that Moses be at once 
set at liberty, and I have never been sorry that I 
did so, for he was a true friend to the good white 
people, and by his simple word kept many hun- 
dred Indians at peace. 

When he was free Moses asked again for a res- 
ervation, and at last it was given to him and to 
his people. There on the banks of the Columbia 
River he kept his people at peace and had them 
work farms and gardens. 

The last time I saw him he visited me at Van- 
couver Barracks near Portland, Oregon, when, 
with many chiefs, he was on his way to Wash- 
ington to visit the President of the United States. 
He was a brave war-chief and not afraid to fight, 
though he had learned to know that peace is best. 

ISoITdN ? 






But forgets that 
she's standing 
In front or 






by agnes McClelland daulton 

Author of " From Sioux to Susan," " Fritzi," etc. 


Chapter XVI — marta as miss mittie 

"There is the telephone-bell," said Aunt Milli- 
cent. "Will you answer it, Bab, dear?" 

"Yes, aunty," and Bab dropped her book. 
"Perhaps it 's Aunt Kate. Shall I tell her you 
want an invitation to her box-party ?" 

"Yes; say she can't get rid of me. I want to 
see Mrs. Trott as Miss Mittie, too," laughed Mrs. 

"Hello — Oh, good morning, Aunt Kate ! — Yes, 
indeed; we 're so happy we 're just dancing, and 
all the Trott girls are just wild. Won't it be 
fun? — Aunt Millicent wants an invitation, too, 



please. She is going to take Jean and me over 
in the morning, and then we will all meet at the 
theater. She says to tell you she won't be cheated 
out of the fun. — Oh, but what 's that, Aunt 
Kate? — Aunt Twilla going? — Oh, goodness, 
mercy — she must n't. — You don't believe she will 
recognize it ? — Oh, but she will, and then she will 
be angry with me, I know. — Well, good-by." 

Dashing the receiver into place Bab came fly- 
ing back into the library. 

"Oh, aunty, it was Aunt Kate, and she says she 
will be delighted to have you, but don't you think 
the dreadfullest thing has happened ? Aunt 
Twilla has taken it in her head to go to the box- 

"Bab!" gasped Jean. 

"Why, where is the dreadfulness? I thought 
you girls adored Aunt Twilla," said Mrs. Linsey 
in surprise. 

"But, mother, the sea-green gown ! She '11 
recognize it !" 

"Aunt Kate says Aunt Twilla never forgot a 
gown in her born days. But, oh, I 'd hate to 
have Aunt Twilla angry with me." 

"I don't believe she '11 recognize it," laughed 
Mrs. Linsey, "and if she does I 'm sure she won't 
care. But we must hurry around if we expect to 
get to the ferry by ten o'clock." 

Bab was happy to the tips of her toes as she 
followed Aunt Millicent and Jean into the box 
at the quiet theater. The subdued stillness, the 
thump of the falling seats, the rustling of gowns, 
the lights, the beautifully dressed people, seemed 
a part of a marvelous dream from which she 
must soon awake. 

But it was no dream, for there were Aunt 
Kate and Aunt Twilla — wonderfully begowned 
and bonneted — there were Joan and Christie, 
Maze and dear Nell, all dimples and smiles. Nell 
was saying in a loud whisper to Jean this min- 

"Please, Jean, let me sit next to Bab, just for 
one little moment. Thank you, so much. I 've 
just got to tell Bab something, or I '11 explode." 

"Oh, Bab," Nell began, squeezing Bab's hand 
till her fingers ached. "I 'm the happiest, happi- 
est girl in all the wide world, and I 've got to 
tell somebody, or die. I came over myself this 
morning for a purpose, and, Bab, dear, — did you 
know Joan can paint, not daub, but paint beauti- 
fully ? I don't suppose you knew it, for she did n't 
tell one of us ; she 's such a quiet mouse. I found 
her out by accident, and in her box she had a set 
of dinner-cards, oh, just perfectly scrumptious, 
that she had done. You know my friend Bird 
Holt, who is in the art school? Well, she had 

told me about a prize being offered for a dozen 
of the most artistic dinner-cards, all different, of 
course, at a swell little shop on Fifth Avenue. 
She was trying for it, though she did n't have a 
bit of hope. So I got the address and without a 
word to anybody I hooked Joan's cards and took 
them there. I did n't dare tell her, for / know 
how it hurts when you try and don't get the prize 
— I 've tried for fifty-eleven and never won a 
thing ! But, oh, Bab, I went to that shop to-day 
— I had left them under my pen name, Dixie 
Dixon, — and she, Joan, you know, has taken that 
prize for fifty whole dollars, and there are lots 
and lots of orders for her ! And, oh, I 'm going 
to tell her to-night, and I 'm so happy, it seems as- 
if I could fly. Dear Saint Joan, if ever a girl de- 
serves it, she does !" 

Just then the orchestra began playing and Bab 
turned toward the stage, with eyes that saw triple 
through tears of joy over Joan's success — "just 
the beautifullest thing that could happen!" 

But when at last the curtain went up, life and 
all its realities fled away, and Bab sat spellbound 
by Aunt Rachel and her troubles. 

Bab had quite forgotten even Mrs. Trott, and 
when Aunt Rachel, telling little Sarah Mary "to 
sit on that 'ere stool and not take an eye off your 
sampler," answered the peal of her jangling bell, 
and let in a little old lady with pink cheeks and 
bobbing white curls, a dear little old lady in a 
violet silk, a funny bonnet, and carrying an im- 
mense band-box, Bab was so interested in the 
play and in the characters that she never knew 
until Maze whispered excitedly : 

"There she is ! That 's mother. She 's Miss- 
Mittie Mcachcm, and she 's brought the pug pup- 
pies, the maltese kitten, and the white mice to 
Aunt Rachel for the children, in her best band- 
box !" 

Then as the audience cried with laughter over 
Aunt Rachel's dismay, "at a hull menagerie 
packed down on a poor body," Bab saw Miss Mit- 
tie really was Mrs. Trott, Mrs. Cassius D., in spite 
of the name of Marta Hubbard on the program, 
and the paint and the white wig. For who but jolly 
Mrs. Trott, mother of all the dear Trotts, could 
have so sweetly blandished Aunt Rachel, until 
that obstinate old lady accepted the puppies, the 
kitten, and the mice with sincere thanks, though 
she was in deadly fear "of dogs, cats, and var- 
mints?" Who could have so comforted poor lit- 
tle lonely Sarah Mary, until, as she confided to 
the make-believe baby, "it jest seems as if it 's 
sun-up over a daisy field, when you see Miss Mit- 
tie ; your heart hops jest that glad"? Who but 
Mrs. Trott could have so dandled and pranced and 
cuddled that "stage" baby? and who have found 




old blind Dan and his little granddaughter, Tib- 
bie ? But there, you must go and see it for your- 
self, only nobody in all the world will ever do 
Miss Mi t tic, with just the sweet whimsy s and 
joyful drolleries of Marta Hubbard. 

It was time for the curtain to go up upon the 
last scene : that happy Hallowe'en when little 
Sarah Mary gets scared at the Jack-o-lantern, 
and Aunt Rachel forgives old scores, and Barney 
bites the candle — but you must go and see it for 
yourself — it was then a sudden murmur ran 
around the box where sat the Linseys, the Trotts, 
and little Bab Howard. A subdued gasp, a lift- 
ing of eyebrows, a pursing of lips ; everybody 
knew, but unsuspecting Miss Twilla, who sat 
there so pleasant and serene. 

"A lovely little play," she had just murmured 
to Aunt Millicent. "So sweet and touching. 
Certainly Mrs. Trott plays her part beautifully." 

But oh, Aunt Twilla did n't know about Sister 
Clothilda's sea-green gown, the Neapolitan bon- 
net, the rose fan and the reticule ! Would she 
recognize them? It was this absorbing question 
that sent a murmur around the box. 

It was to be Miss Mittic's best scene: Where 
she comes rushing in to Aunt Rachel's humble 
home after the Hallowe'en party. She 's late, as 
always, and still in all her finery, and when she 
has told the joyful news, she kisses the baby, and 
breaks into that merry dance in which all the 
characters join her as the curtain falls. 

Oh, would Aunt Twilla know? 

But when the gay little figure, all in sea-green 
and rose, topped by the coal-scuttle bonnet, burst 
in upon the pretty scene, everbody forgot every- 
thing but what was going on upon the stage. 

"It 's Hallowe'en, my dearest dear," cried Miss 
Mittic, fluttering her fan and swinging her reti- 
cule gaily by one string. "It 's Hallowe'en ; so 
let the mice nibble and the puppy-dogs play. Kiss 
the baby, everybody — for oh, my dears ! My 
dears! Little Sarah Mary! Little Sarah Mary! 
I 've found your Uncle Samuel, I really, truly 
have." And then dear Miss Mittic, furling her 
rosy fan upon its coral chain, daintily picking up 
her trailing skirts with one hand and giving the 
other to dashing Barney, away they swung, fol- 
lowed by repentant Aunt Rachel, the fat lawyer, 
by Betty and Peter and little Sarah Mary, around 
and around. 

"Oh dear, — oh dear, she 's all out of step," 
thought Jean. "She 's doing it dreadfully; not 
half as well as she did it up in the sky parlor. Oh 
•dear, oh dear !" 

But clap — clap — clap, went the audience 

"Good, good !" cried everybody, as bewitching 
Miss Mittic came thumping stiffly down the mid- 

dle and swung around the corner, half a measure 
before the time. "Good, good" for, oh, don't you 
see that stupid audience thought Miss Mittie was 
doing it so badly just on purpose ? For how could 
it know of Daddy Trott and his dreary harmon- 
ica, and Drusie and her "one, two, three"; and of 
the sky parlor and patient Jean ? 

"Good, good!" "Best play this year!" 

And the curtain went down amid a rapture of 
applause as that dear little figure in the lovely 
sea-green gown and the coal-scuttle bonnet came 
stiffly thumping down the middle hopelessly out 
of time. 

Applause and more applause. 

That audience would n't be satisfied. 

The great curtain suddenly moved, and a hand 
appearing to drag it back, another thunder of ap- 
plause from the audience. 

Out stepped Barney into the dazzling glare of 
the footlights, still in his flowered satin waist- 
coat and claw-hammer coat, and most elegantly 
he gave his hand to Aunt Rachel, who in turn led 
little Sarah Mary. 

Yes, there she was, stepping out daintily be- 
fore the swaying curtain, little Miss Mittie all in 
sea-green and rose with a fat pug puppy under 
her arm. 

But the first happy smile and swift little cour- 
tesy was not for the delighted audience. Straight 
toward the box where sat the Linseys, the Trotts, 
and little Bab Howard she turned her happy, 
smiling face. And Christie, not knowing w r hat 
she did, her eyes shining through happy tears, 
held out her arms. 

"She certainly looked very lovely in Sister 
Clothilda's sea-green gown," remarked Miss 
Twilla serenely, as she dropped her lorgnette. 
"I 'm so glad you let her take it, Katie. It was 
just the thing for the part." 

Chapter XVII 


"Miss Linsey, please, may Bab and I go to speak 
to mother just a moment?" Nell, leaning for- 
ward, looked out coaxingly from under her big 
white hat. 

"Oh, Nell, do, do take me," begged Maze. 

"No, not a soul but Bab," replied Nell, shaking 
her head emphatically. "Please, may we, Miss 

"Well, well, trot along," said Aunt Kate kindly. 
"We '11 wait for you in the foyer. Hurry, please, 
for it is late and sister is tired." 

Nell and Bab had only waited for the first 
words and were already hurrying off toward the 




But, after all, getting behind the scenes was n't 
such plain sailing as Nell had imagined. 

"Can't do it," growled the surly old stage-door- 
keeper. "If you ain't got no written permit, why, 
you can't pass me. Sorry, but I don't know you." 

"That was Miss Vance, who played Aunt Ra- 
chel. Is n't she lovely?" whispered Nell. 

Bab, too astonished to reply, still followed the 
lovely vision with her eyes, but, stumbling over 
a wheelbarrow — yes, the very wheelbarrow in 


"But — but — please — " began Nell, pleadingly. 

" 'T ain't no kind of use," snarled the man. 

"Oh, let them pass, Billy. It 's Marta Hub- 
bard's little girls," said a lady who had just ap- 
peared, and who evidently had recognized pretty 
Nell. "How-de-do, dearies?" she said, smiling 
at them pleasantly, as she jabbed a last hat-pin 
into place. "Go up those little iron stairs, and it' s 
the second door left-hand. Good-by," and she 
floated away, "like an angel all in blue, with a 
plumy hat, veils flying, golden hair, and a most 
delicious fragrance," as Bab afterward confided 
to Jean when she described it all to the others. 

which Barney takes little Sarah Mary riding — 
she suddenly came to earth. 

"My, what a dreadful, horrid, smelly place," 
she whispered, as a stifling odor of paint, burn- 
ing gas, and dust settled down upon them. "Ev- 
erything is so mixed up. I don't see how they 
can find themselves." 

From the wing she could see the hurrying 
stage-hands rolling up carpets, trundling off fur- 
niture, and pushing back the walls of Aunt Ra- 
clicl's cheerful sitting-room. All the glamour had 
departed, even the lovely pink roses little Sarah 
Mary had so lovingly watered in the bay-window 




— they stood right at Bah's elbow now — were 
the "artificiallist of artificials," as she told herself 
in disgust. But Nell gave her only time for a 
fleeting glimpse. 

"Come, come, it 's horrid. I 'm afraid mother 
won't like our being here. Come, Bab," she 
urged, beginning hurriedly to climb the little iron 
stairway, and Bab had nothing to do but follow. 

"You, Nell — back here ! And you, Bab," cried 
Mrs. Trott, starting up in dismay, as the girls 
opened her dressing-room door. The big bonnet 
lay in the open bandbox upon the floor, and Mrs. 
Trott was just taking off the white wig. "Is any- 
thing the matter at home ?" 

"Oh, no, mother, only just the loveliest," de- 
clared Nell, throwing her arms about her. "I 
was so happy, I could n't go home without telling 

The little room was dreary and cheerless, as un- 
like the actresses' dressing-rooms of Bab's imag- 
ination as possible. Hot, bare, unlighted, save for 
the electric bulb beside the murky mirror ; yet 
interesting, too, with its wall decorations of gaunt 
gowns, and its dressing-table disordered with 
squatty pots, cold-cream jars, rouge bottles, and 
among the litter lay the rosy fan. Bab's special 
admiration, the reticule, was lying in the band- 
box with the bonnet. 

"Sit down, dear," said Mrs. Trott, pushing the 
one unoccupied chair toward Bab, while Nell 
perched herself upon a trunk. 

"Oh, mother," began Nell, "it 's about Joan ! 
You never could guess," and Nell told the story 
of the dinner-cards. 

"Is n't it lovely?" cried Bab. 

"And, mother, just think how happy she '11 be!" 

"And how surprised," said Bab, leaning over 
to fish the reticule out of the bandbox and lay it 
lovingly upon her knee, and poking each little 
outside pocket with a tapering forefinger. "Ugh ! 
My, but I stuck myself," she moaned, sucking the 
wounded finger. "What is in here ? Why, Mrs. 
Trott, here is your beautiful pin !" 

Mrs. Trott, »radiant with Nell's news, glanced 
up at Bab and then sprang forward with a cry. 

"Bab, where did you find it?" 

"Why, tucked away in this funny little out- 
side pocket, see ?" 

"My stars!" gasped Mrs. Trott, growing pale, 
"and to think of the way I swung that bag by one 

Mrs. Trott was holding the beautiful brooch 
up in the glare of the electric light, where it 
twinkled and flashed with a thousand lights. 

"Diamonds !" gasped Nell, breathlessly. 

"Oh, I 'm so glad I found it," crowed Bab. 
"You might have lost it out of that little pocket." 

"But whose is it?" inquired Nell, all a-twitter. 

"Why is n't it yours, Mrs. Trott?" 

"Mine ! Sallie Trott with diamonds worth 
hundreds, and Daddy pining for a pickle factory, 
and the children needing clothes!" she laughed 
and cried all in a breath. "Why, don't you under- 
stand, dear, that it 's Miss Linsey's? Blessed 
Miss Linsey, who has been like an angel to us, 
and I might have lost it." 

"Oh, let us take it to her quick." urged Nell, 
wringing her hands nervously. "It might get 
stolen ! Oh, how it flashes ! Let 's take it to 

But already Mrs. Trott had thrown a cloak 
over her green gown and was starting for the door. 

"Come," she said over her shoulder, "come, my 

Joan saw them first as the three came hurrying 
into the foyer. 

"Something is the matter," she said. "There 
is Aunt Sallie with the girls, and look at Bab's 
eyes — they are just shining." 

"Oh, Aunt Kate," cried Bab. "The most won- 
derful thing has happened. Here is Mrs. Trott. 
She '11 tell." 

"It 's the luckiest thing in the world the girls 
came back to me," began Mrs. Trott, taking them 
all in in her smiling greeting ; "but what do you 
think Bab has found? It makes me faint to think 
how I might have lost it ! and never even have 
known it!" and she held out the diamond brooch 
to Miss Linsey. 

"The diamond crown !" cried Aunt Kate, her 
face breaking into a perfect twinkle of gladness. 

"The diamond crown!" echoed Aunt Twilla, 
throwing out her hands helplessly. 

"The diamond crown?" echoed Bab, blankly. 
To be sure the brooch was crown-shaped, but it 
had not occurred to her that this was the missing 
crown. "That little thing ! Why I supposed it 
would be as big as Aunt Twilla's bonnet." 

But every one's attention was on Miss Twilla 
into whose shaking hands Miss Linsey had laid 
the diamond brooch. Tears were streaming down 
her wrinkled cheeks. 

"Oh, Kate — and I suspected — poor, poor Ella, 
and — and sent her away!" 

"And I suspected you of forgetfulness, dear. 
Don't cry so. It will come out all right. Where 
did you find it, Mrs. Trott ? How can we ever be 
grateful enough to you !" 

"In one of the outside pockets of the reticule, 
but I did n't find it. Bab must have all the credit. 
She found me the reticule, and found you the 

"In the reticule? I 'in as much in the dark as 
ever," mused Miss Linsev. 




"But poor Ella, poor Ella!" moaned Miss 

"You see," explained Mrs. Linsey to Mrs. 
Trott, "the crown, an heirloom, and very valua- 
ble, disappeared about a month before Bab came 
to us, and — " 

"I suspected my maid, and really Ella was like 
a companion," confessed Miss Twilla, her face 
flushing. "I had seen it in her hands last when 
she was cleaning it, and when it disappeared so 
mysteriously I felt I could n't trust her, and 
though I had no idea of prosecuting her, I did 
not mean to be so hard on her as that, yet I in- 
sisted upon sending her away." 

"And I," said Miss Linsey in her deepest voice, 
"never suspected the girl for a moment, but, 
knowing how forgetful my sister is, and how she 
is forever mislaying her keys, felt sure the crown 
would turn up some day, and I would n't hear 
of Ella leaving Durley. So I " 

"And oh, won't Ella and Pollykins be happy!" 
exclaimed Bab. 

"Pollykins?" cried Miss Twilla. 

"Bab, what do you know about it?" demanded 
Aunt Kate, suddenly turning. 

"Why, you know, too, Joan, the voice, the 
voice! Don't you remember that day?" 

"Has the child lost her wits?" inquired Aunt 
Millicent anxiously. 

Then out tumbled all the delightful story of the 
west wing, the sunken garden, the voice, and 
Joan's painting. Everybody exclaimed, and 
everybody laughed, even old Aunt Twilla dried 
her eyes, when she found how beautifully she 
had been tricked. 

"Oh, how thankful I am to you, Katie," said 
Aunt Twilla, "I 've had visions of the poor child 
homeless and forlorn. Why, Bab, I gave Ella 
Pollykins myself years ago, and she loved the 
bird so, I insisted upon her taking it with her. 
Oh', all this has been a dreadful lesson to me. Do 
you think she will ever forgive me?" 

"Of course she will. But we must hurry to her, 
and not let her grieve a moment longer than nec- 
essary," said Aunt Kate, and then added with a 
chuckle : "And to think I should ever imagine I 
could keep Bab's nose out of this affair. But, 
after all, she saved the day, bless her. We 
might never have found the crown if it had n't 
been for Bab. So you may go home with us, 
little meddlesome rascal, and break the happy 
news to Ella all yourself. But how did that 
diamond crown ever get into the reticule ? 
That 's the question. That 's the question !" 

{To be continued.) 



June 's the month when Bobolink 

Sings all through the daytime, 
Down here by the river side 

Where we spend our playtime. 
Where 's his house ? — I mean his nest- 

Oh, here it is, I 've found it ! 
In a garden of green grass, — 

Daisy trees around it. 


When Clarence Van Brunt went to visit his cou- 
sins, Sam, Frederic and James Bates, he had a 
new experience. He arrived at the home of his 
cousins late in the evening. 

On coming down to breakfast he was surprised 
to find that his cousins had breakfasted at seven 
o'clock, and that they had already gone out-of- 
doors. Afraid that he might miss a part of the 
fun, he hurried through his breakfast, and in- 
quired where the boys could be found. His aunt 
told him the boys had gone to the barn ; this was 
promising, and he started out to find them. The 
barn was behind the house, and, wondering what 
games they would play, he opened the small door 
at the side of the barn and noticed- a sign over the 
door : "Sam Bates and Brothers — Fence Post 
Builders." He had never heard of that game, 
and eagerly opened the door and entered a large, 
bare room filled with many curious things, and 
here he found his cousins dressed in a strange, 
brown uniform, unlike any ball-club uniform he 
had ever seen. 

"What are you going to play?" 

"Play ! Can't stop to play. Man on Main 
Street has given us an order for two dozen posts." 

Clarence did not understand a word his cou- 
sin Sam said, but asked if he could take part in 
the game. 

"Of course, you can. Run in and ask mother 
to give you my old overalls." 

To Clarence Van Brunt putting on a pair of 
overalls was a new sensation. He had never 
worn any working clothes, but as they fitted very 
well and seemed to be the regular uniform of the 
sport, he soon joined his cousins in the barn. To 
his surprise he found the boys busy making a big 
mud-pie on the floor of the room. 

"Want to help, Clarence?" said Sam. 

"Yes, but I never played the game before." 

The three brothers smiled in a curious way, 
and then Sam said to Clarence : "Fill that water- 
ing-pot at the well and bring it in here." 

With that Sam, Fred, and Jim picked up 
shovels and quickly stirred the sand and cement 

(twelve shovelfuls of sand to five of cement), 
and then formed it into a low heap, that was 
slightly scooped out in the center. 

"Ready, Clarry; pour the water slowly on the 
mixture, while we stir her up." 

Clarence picked up the pot and poured the 
water on the heap, while his cousins stirred it to- 
gether till all the water disappeared and the yellow 
gravel was lost in the wet, brown, sloppy pud- 
ding. Then he saw the boys fill their shovels 
from the pudding and pour it into a long, shallow 
box. It was certainly very strange, and Clarence 

"What do you call the game?" 

"Game ! Why it is n't a game, at all. Did n't 
you see our sign? We are fence post builders. 
You see, it began in this way: Father wanted one 
,or two fence posts, to repair the woven wire fence, 
round our hen-yard, and wooden posts decay so 
fast that he decided to make posts of concrete. 
He wrote to the Department of Agriculture at 
Washington, D. C, and they sent a little book, 
giving directions for making posts of reinforced 
concrete. We followed the directions and made 
a wooden mold that we could use in building four 
posts at once. It was so simple and easy that 
when vacation came we boys each drew two dol- 
lars out of the savings-bank, and on this capital 
started in business." 

"But tell me what you mean by reinforced con- 
crete. I understand that cement, and sand, and 
water, will make artificial stone, but what is the 
reinforcing you talk about ?" 

"You saw us mix the materials, this morning, 
and pour the wet stuff into the wooden mold. 
To-morrow we shall take the mold apart, and we 
shall have four concrete posts, and in about a 
week they will be as hard as stone. Now, a long, 
slender post of concrete will sustain a great 
weight, but a blow at the side may break it. The 
posts can hold up a fence, but a bull or a horse 
would knock it down and break the posts — so we 
reinforce or strengthen the posts with metal rods. 
If you had looked in the molds, yesterday, you 



would have seen that each one contained four 
steel rods, one near each corner and all fastened 
together with iron wire. These we lay in the 
mold and bury them out of sight in the wet con- 
crete. When the concrete is hard it binds the 
rods firmly together. These rods we call the re- 
inforcement. The concrete is strong in one di- 
rection ; by bedding the rods in it we make it 
strong in every direction. It would be a foolish 
bull that would butt into one of our fence posts 
after it is firmly set in the ground. He would 
wonder what he had struck. By the way, there 
is a man in the next town building a house out of 
reinforced concrete. We are to go over there 
this afternoon to see it. Want to go with us?" 

An hour later, Sam Bates and Brothers, and 
Clarence, arrived, by trolley, at the most curious 
piece of construction they had ever seen. Sam 
and his brothers understood everything and ex- 
plained all they saw to their cousin. The first 
thing they saw was the making of wet concrete, 
and they stayed for ten minutes watching a gang 
of a dozen men mixing cement, sand, and fine 
broken stone and water, into a gigantic mud-pie. 
Then the men filled iron wheel-barrows with the 
soft, wet, plastic material, and wheeled it up a 
long inclined plane to the second story of the 
most remarkable building they had ever seen. To 
Clarence it seemed a wooden house, and yet it 

"You see," said Sam, "this is one corner of the 
house, the shape of the house being shown by the 


was wholly unlike any wooden structure. To ex- 
plain it the boys led him to one corner of the 
building, and Fig. i shows what they saw. 


concrete foundation ; the top or cap of the foun- 
dation apparently resting on the ground. On the 
corner is an octagonal pedestal, and on this 
stands a beautiful, round column having a capi- 
tal on top, and intended to sustain the corner 
of the second story. On the right and left of the 
column are wooden posts that support two hollow 
wooden boxes that meet just over the top of the 
column. To make the pedestal, column and capital, 
wooden molds were placed here and filled with 
wet concrete. When it set or hardened, the mold 
was taken apart and there stood the solid con- 
crete column as hard as a stone. It cannot burn 
and it is so strong that it will carry the weight of 
the two-story house to be built above it. There 
is to be another column at the right and left. 
When those two boxes are filled with concrete 
and left to harden, the wooden mold can be pulled 
apart and there will be a great square, right- 
angled beam of concrete, resting on the columns 
and holding up the house." 

"What is that steel cage on top of the column ?" 
"That 's the reinforcing. Inside that column 
are the same steel rods bound together by steel 
wire. The mold for the wall of the house will be 
placed around that steel cage, and as the concrete 
is poured into the molds the cage will be buried 
out of sight. It is easy to see the column is much 




stronger for those rods buried within it. Come, 
let us look at a part of the house that is already 
two stories hisfh — three stories with the basement."' 

crete is poured into the box it buries the rods 

and, with the rods, forms the wall of the house." 

"Yes. You see two stories are already finished 


Clarence followed his cousins to another part 
of the building, and what they saw is shown in 
Fig. 2 on the preceding page. 

"Oh!" said Clarence, "now I cair see what you 
mean. The wooden molds form a deep, narrow, 



empty box, and this is filled with rods; I can see 
them sticking out at the top, and when the con- 

and the wooden box has been moved up ready for 
the next story. Blank frames are placed in the 
box to form the doors and windows. There is 
another thing: there are two holes in the wall 
near the top of the lower door, and there is a 
wire cage standing on the ground by the door. 
That is the reinforcement for a post that is to 
stand there. On this is to rest a piazza for the 
second story door. A concrete beam will be 
built from the top of the post to the wall, and the 
wet concrete will be poured into that hole in the 
wall to join the end of the beam to the house." 

Greatly interested in this new method of house- 
building, Clarence and his cousins climbed up the 
long incline, and entered the house at the second 
story. , Here they saw such an extraordinary 
piece of work going on that they asked Sam to 
explain it. Here is the singular piece of work 
itself. See Fig. 3. 

"This is the bedroom floor of the house. Under 
it is a wooden floor supported by wooden posts. 
On the wooden floor the workman laid rows of 
hollow terra-cotta pipes, and left a space between 
each row. There is one space where the man in 
overalls stands. In those spaces are laid large 
iron rods and on top of the pipes the men are lay- 
ing smaller rods in a checker-board pattern. The 
black pipes in front of the big man with a felt hat 




are pipes for the electric light wires of the 
house. They are put in now, before the concrete 
is poured into the spaces between the terra-cotta 
pipes and will be in time buried out of sight in 
the floor. The three hollow boxes in front of the 
man who is sitting down, form molds for the con- 
crete. When the floor is finished these boxes will 
be taken out and there will be three openings in 
the floor, one for the dumb-waiter, one for the 
laundry chute, and one for the steam-heating 
pipes. They make all the holes needed in the 
floors in this way, by leaving out the concrete, 
for after it is hard it is very difficult to cut the 
holes needed for pipes or elevator shafts, or for 
the chimney-flues. On the right we can see that 
the concrete has been laid, covering everything 
out of sight. In a few days the wooden floor will 
be taken down, and the new floor, built in this 
strange and yet simple way, will stand alone for- 
ever, for it cannot burn down." , 
For two hours the boys wandered over this 

curious mud-pie house, examining everything 
with the greatest interest, for they saw that here 
was a wholly new way to build a house. In re- 
turning home they took another trolley-line in 
order to see another house built of reinforced 
concrete and already finished and occupied. Fig. 
4 shows the house they saw, and certainly it was 
a handsome and comfortable house. 

"There is one satisfaction," said Sam, as they 
reached home. "We are foolishly cutting down 
all the trees in our country, and soon there will 
be no more lumber and we shall be unable to 
build wooden houses. Then, there are the terri- 
ble fires that occur every day all over the country. 
These new houses are stronger and better than 
any wooden houses; they will not burn down, or 
fall down, or decay, and a man can build a house 
for himself and his children and grandchildren 
and great, great, grandchildren, and they will 
have a good house long after all the wooden 
houses have burned up or tumbled down." 

Vol. XXXV. -90. 



There is a story told of a grand review of the and steeds came down the field at moderate speed 

Austrian army in the presence of the emperor, and gathered for the final dash past their be- 

Thirty thousand soldiers, on foot and mounted, loved emperor. 

were said to have taken part. The chief feature The bugle sounded and on the mad charge 

of the review was to be the brilliant charge of came. But when within a hundred feet of the 


the cavalry, or famous hussars, — crack horsemen, spot where the emperor and his staff sat on their 
all of them, and bold fighters. restless horses, a sudden, shrill shriek rent the 

The tiptoeing crowd of spectators that formed air, as a frenzied woman attempted to break 
a broad avenue on that level plain were wild with through the lines and plunge forward to seize 
pent-up excitement as the onrushing mass of men her little child who, in all innocence of what 

7 J 4 



was coming, had strolled out to gather a bright 
flower right in the path of the onrushing horses. 

Those nearest the mother held her back, know- 
ing that she, as well as the child, would be 
trampled upon, and none dared themselves to 
risk certain death in facing that wild charge. The 
excited spectators held their breath in horror of 
the disaster they were powerless to help. 

Faster than words can tell it, the foremost of 
the horses was within a few feet of the unsus- 
pecting child. But, quick as a flash, the brave 
hussar who led the galloping troop guided his 
horse to one side, reached down, and, without 
slackening his speed, grasped the little tot by her 
loose dress and lifted her safely to his saddle. 

The restrained excitement of the throng broke 
out in a tumultuous shout that fairly drowned 
the noise of the shouting troopers and clattering 
hoofs, and in an instant the baby and rider were 
far down the field, lost in a cloud of dust. 

An orderly was sent after the troop with com- 
mand to bring back the hero of the charge. 

And there, with the baby on hjs saddle-bow, 
fearlessly holding in her tiny hands the reins 
of the panting steed, the brave hussar re- 
ceived from the emperor's own hands the Cross 
of Honor. 

But his greatest reward was the blessing of the 
thankful mother in whose impatient arms he ten- 
derly placed her precious little girl. 


'll C 


"If I were as young as I used to be," 
Said dear old Grandmother pensively, 
While a troubled frown crossed her placid brow, 

"I would n't tire as I do now. 
I recall the time when with all my might 
I could work from dawn to candle light, 
And it would n't seem hard at all to me 
If I were as young as I used to be." 

Then Mother laughed in a roguish way 
And said to Grandmother with manner gay: 



"If I were as young as I used to be 
I 'd have nothing to worry about," said she; 

"No babies to care for, no house to run, 
No object in life but a search for fun. 
Yet for all life's pleasures I would n't exchange 
My duties to-day, though it may seem strange. 
Still, from many a care I would be free 
If I were as young as I used to be." 

Then there came an echo from little Jim, 
Who seemed to think it was "up to" him. 

And he solemnly said, "Oh, jiminy! 

If / were as young as / used to be 

I would n't have any old sums to do, 

Just lie in the cradle and say 'A-goo.' 

I 'd be dandled and played with from morn till night, 

And folks would all say I was very bright; 

And everyone would be petting me 

If I were as young as I used to be." 

Louise M. Berry. 






BY " L. G. T." 

illustrated'from photographs, and FROM DRAWINGS BY CHRIS. JORGENSEN 

Chapter XX 



A "lightning change" 

Uncle Sam knows a prize when he draws one ; 
since the tenth of May our main truck again 
flaunts two stars. Promises of a sword for our 
gallant hero and of medals for us have been made 
by Congress, while what we need still more — 
ammunition and reinforcements — are on the way. 

Since the burial of Adam, sailors have been 
averse to soldiers' work, but we have been forced 
beautifully down to it, and it has brought new 
experiences into our lives. Think of sailors tak- 
ing a piano and carrying it for three miles after 
hoisting it over a stone wall ! When we had 
landed it in shipshape at the water's edge, one of 
our officers came along and said, "Good ! We 
will have it in our ward-room." 

In the ward-room — the officers' room where 
we Jackies might not stray ! "Not on your life !" 
we said to ourselves. He was no sooner out of 
sight than the souvenir battle-axes we were 
bearing were wielded with a vim that reduced an 
upright Steinway to kindling. 

After going through the different stages of 
gathering and casting away what we could find, 
twenty of us clubbed together, and by our com- 
bined efforts succeeded in getting a dandy little 
three-inch field-piece on board, intending to raffle 
it, that one out of the score might carry home 
with him a souvenir worth while. But the powers 
that rule have taken it, and will present it with 
their compliments to our godmother the City of 
Olympia. Bah ! 

And we are bearing these indignities on short 
rations, which in the present instance means hard- 
tack so full of weevil that it would be an insult 
to the canine race to substitute it for dog biscuit ! 

Uncle Sam is not doing it with malicious in- 
tent. This war came on suddenly, and we were 
completely cut off from fresh supplies while in 
Mirs Bay, and it really can't very well be helped. 
I recall one morning when our supplies had run 
so low that the cook of Mess No. 3 threw a pair 
of boxing-gloves and some dumb-bells at us as 
he had nothing else to serve with our coffee. It 
was when we were reduced to this, and before we 

had grown to look upon a banana and a cigarette 
as a Philippine breakfast, that Sir Edward Chi- 
chester, the British admiral, signaled to us, "Send 
your boats alongside for fresh provisions." The 
laws of neutrality kept us from accepting this 
offer, but whenever we have occasion to go along- 
side the British ships in our boats, when our offi- 
cers are calling, the English sailors invariably 
pass us out supplies. 

There is a bounteous crop of cocoanuts and 
mangoes growing inside the Navy Yard, and we 
have learned to eat the former in a semi-liquid 
state. It carries me back to the days when I ate 
raw eggs, not because I liked them, but because 
it was one way of showing my masculine supe- 
riority over my sister. 

A taste for mangoes is an acquired one, and 
although realizing there is only one pla«e where 
they could be eaten with any degree of decency — 
that is, in a bath-tub— I am really fond of them. 

It is part of war's destruction, "When unable 
to capture, spike your enemy's guns." The port 
at Cavite was equipped with a battery of the lat- 
est improved Krupp cannon, every one of which 
we wound with a bandage of guncotton. Gun- 
cotton looks just like cube sugar strung on copper 
wire. When each gun had a string of it around 
its middle we switched on the current and the 
deed was done. They were effectually choked, 
resembling long rolls of butter that had been 
grasped between the thumb and finger, leaving 
an encircling depression. Of course it was a 
shame and a pity, just as it was a pity and a 
shame to treat the Mindanao as we did. 

She was a beautiful transport, fresh from 
Spain, her cargo still aboard, and during the bat- 
tle she had been run up on the shoals off Las 
Pines and abandoned. That wry day, before the 
sun had set, as if our engines were playing "Be- 
hold El Capitan!" we steamed out and our for- 
'ard turrets sent two 8-inch shells full length, 
clean through and through her, and repeated the 
salute from our aft turrets. 

In the morning she was still there, and we sent 
the little Concord out to set her on fire. She 
burned for a week, and I never looked toward her 
devouring flames without wondering how much 
provision they were consuming; but we are obey- 
ing orders, which read, "Engage and destroy." 




Among the many escapades ashore there is the 
one that canonized Connelly a martyr. 

Doing garrison duty in the yard, a consuming 
thirst drove a gang of us out in search of beer, 
since water was deadly, and as we were scurry- 
ing back with our prize, under the first darkness 
of the night, an officer discovered us and called, 
"Halt!" Too well we knew what the obeying of 
that order would bring us, and, realizing that we 
were not to be recognized, took to our legs. To 
our astonishment the valiant officer fired two 
shots after us. One of them hit Connelly in the 
leg, and that 's what made him a martyr. It was 
a nasty wound. His shipmates dressed it and 
antiseptically bandaged it. They performed all 
of his tasks that it is possible for one man to do 
for another, and although at times the fellow suf- 
fered intensely, he was always at muster,' and 
never with a telltale limp. 

The other side of the page is this : The officer 
who fired at us followed far enough to find a trail 
of blood on the cement pavement. Then, going 
out to the ship, he warned them in the sick-bay 
and dispensary to look out for a man who, would 
come in to report a shot in the leg. Unquestion- 
ably he felt valorous until Admiral Dewey got 
after him. I hear he roasted him brown. "Would 
you shoot your own men in time of war?" he 
asked, and then showed him the chances he was 
taking, for these are the days when every man, 
from the admiral down, wears a 38-caliber Colt's 
revolver at his side. 

There is a two-hundred-years' accumulation of 
cannon in the Navy Yard at Manila. Long and 


short, great and small, they are piled like cord- 
wood and strung out like fence-rails. Some of 
them are so elaborately carved they would make 
handsome ornaments for home parks and mu- 

Poor sailors of Spain ! It was not from lack 
of war's appliances that they were vanquished. 
It is told of them that when they went to their 
guns to fire, they actually flinched, just from the 
strangeness of the act, while every hour of drill 
we have gone through, and every pound of pow- 
der we have burned, has demonstrated beyond a 

proposition that Uncle Sam has been casting his 
bread upon the waters. 

While men have come and men have gone, I 
still hang my hammock on hook No. 2149, which 
is in the first row aft in the starboard gangway 
on the gun-deck. 

I have grown well acquainted (by sight) with 
Aguinaldo, the insurgent general, who has be- 
come a frequent visitor on board. In appearance 
he resembles a small mulatto boy playing soldier 
with a man's sword dragging at his heels ; but it 
is not for me to criticize his appearance, for it 
was he who presented us with twenty bullocks, 
which meant converting them into beef. It was 
the first fresh meat we have had here. Would 
it be discourteous to remark that the tropics 
raise better fruit than beef? 

Yesterday morning on wakening I immediately 
recalled that it was the twenty-fourth of June. 
Taking some extra pains in my dressing, before 
quarters, I went to the mast, saluted, and said, "I 
beg to report the expiration of my enlistment, 

"Do you want to ship over ?" 

As I answered in the negative, the conversa- 
tion abruptly ended. 

The captured Callao! She came in, two weeks 
after the battle, wholly ignorant of the fate of the 
Maine, and came to only after three shots had 
crossed her bow and the top of her mainmast car- 
ried away. Of all the lightning changes I have 
ever known, that of the Callao "takes the cake !" 
At eight o'clock one morning she was a Spanish 
gunboat ; before ten, the Stars and Stripes floated 
from her stern and a skeleton crew of U. S. sea- 
men were established aboard her. 

I shall never forget how the tears rolled down 
her captain's cheeks when, in answer to his ques- 
tion, "Where is the Spanish fleet?" a finger indi- 
cated its shattered hulks and spars sticking out of 
the water. Slowly it all dawned upon him, and 
he replied, "Then I suppose I am a prisoner," and 

Before quitting the ship Dewey caused him to 
pay off his men from the revenues he had col- 
lected, knowing that otherwise they would never 
get their wages. He then paroled him with his 
crew, sending them with an escort through our 
lines. It is reported that he has been shot by his 
countrymen for not fighting his ship. 

What was I saying about remaining? Am I 
not enlisted for three years, not to exceed five? 
I would not leave now if I could, but I shall be 
glad when the soldiers come. 




picket duty- 

Chapter XXI 

-"you 're adrift !"- 
tired and sleepy 


Doing picket duty on the wall, I saw a Spaniard 
rise out of a trench,, sight down the barrel of his 
Mauser and aim directly at me. Dropping be- 
hind, I laid my cap on top of the wall and 

I / 



stepped aside just in time to hear a bullet whizz 
above my cap. In quick succession two more 
followed, each a little nearer to the target. Then, 
remembering orders, I knew it was my turn. I 
fired only once. It was not answered, so I put 
on my cap and got back on the wall, but did not 
go to look inside the trench. I did not want to. 
The climate of Hawaii is cool and balmy com- 
pared with this. Our scant raiment clings to our 
bodies from the heat, but to go in swimming 
would be like throwing shark bait into the surf. 

Thunder and lightning! Is it like unto battle, 
or is battle like a thunder-storm ? Though un- 
able to decide, I readily recall a night when we 
were cruising about, just outside Manila Bay, I 
stood in the yards of the mainmast in the dark- 
ness of Erebus. I felt as if the world were' an 
-eggshell- and' our "ship the only thing in that 
world. Then, from away off in the great, un- 
fathomable universe, a peal of thunder would 
split the shell, letting in a chain of jagged light- 
ning just where the sky and water met. 

On one of these little cruises the watch aloft 
one morning reported "Water-spout ahoy!" It 
was the familiar old picture out of the geog- 
raphy. The quartermaster said, "You may never 

see another, boys. Take a shot at it." A single 
shot from a six-pounder broke it into a spray that, 
mingling with the waves, rolled peacefully on. 

On the morning of the battle (try as I may, it 
seems I cannot get away from that day) Captain 
Gridley was so ill that the little commodore of- 
fered to excuse him from duty ; but, gallantly, as 
is characteristic of the man, he replied, "Thank 
you, Commodore Dewey, but she is my ship and I 
will fight her." And he did, although, figura- 
tively speaking, he was a dead man before he 
went on the bridge, and days had strung them- 
selves into but few weeks when he was ordered 
home on sick-leave. He came up out of his cabin 
dressed in civilian clothes and was met by the 
rear-admiral, who extended him a most cordial 
hand. A look of troubled disappointment flitted 
across the captain's brow, but vanished when he 
stepped to the head of the gangway and, looking 
over, saw, not the launch, but a twelve-oared cut- 
ter manned entirely by officers of the Olympia. 
There were men in that boat who had not pulled a 
stroke for a quarter of a century. 

The Stars and Stripes were at the stern and a 
captains silken coach-whip at the bow; and 
when Captain Gridley, beloved alike by officers 
and men, entered the boat, it was "up oars !" and 
all that just as though they were common sailors 
that were to row him over to the Zafiro. When 
he sat down upon the handsome boat-cloth that 
was spread for him, he bowed his head, and his 
hands hid his face as First-Lieutenant Reese, 
acting coxswain, ordered, "Shove off; out oars; 
give away !" 

Later in the day the lookout on the bridge re- 
ported, "Zafiro under way, sir," and the deck 
officer passed on the word until a little twitter 
from Pat Murray's pipe brought all the other 
bo's'ns around him, and in concert they sang out, 
"Stand by to man the rigging!" 

Not the Olympia alone, but every other ship in 


the squadron dressed and manned, and the last 
we ever saw of our dear captain he was sitting 
on a chair out on the Zafiro's quarter-deck, ap- 




parently "listening to the old band play." A 
week later a cablegram told us that he never 
reached home, having died on the fifth of June 
on board the Coptic. The grief that filled our 
hearts abated not, even when the prescribed time 
for mourning had passed and the flags were re- 
leased from half-mast. 

There is another we niiss; but it was but the shifting 
of officers, which is like unto the shifting of the sands 
on the shore, that took Lieu- 
tenant Delano from us. The 
last we saw of him, he stood 
at the stern of the launch, 
dandling in his hand a fob 
that hung from a gold watch 
(a parting giftfrom the crew) 
while the band lustily played 
"Nancy Lee." We loved 
that man, and feel that had 
he been lieutenant com- 
manding on the first of May, 
the men who were taken 
from the brig to fight for 
their flag (I was not one of 
them) would never have 
been sent back to serve out 
their sentence after the bat- 
tle, and for the credit of our 
navy I am glad that it will 
not be written in our history, 
and am already half ashamed 
that I have written it even in 
this, the chronicles of a did- 
dy-box; but I cease to blush 

for this as I glow with pride in making note that 
since the battle not an hour's drill have we done. 
The admiral says we have proved that we do not 
need it. 

While there are always ground-swells off Ca- 
vite, sometimes they grow heavier than at others. 
It was when they were doing their worst that I 
lay under the awning in the storm sheets of the 
admiral's launch, on duty during dinner-hour. 
She was riding tied to the boom, and I doing 
nothing but swelter and wait my turn for "chow," 
when I heard a voice calling: 

"In the barge, there !■" i 

"Aye, aye, sir." 
"You 're adrift." 

I came to, started the engine, and tried to steer 
back to the ship, but a squall had suddenly come 
up, and I could not manage her. The orders 
shouted from the bridge grew indistinct, then in- 
audible, and I could hear nothing but the ele- 
ments. For two hours I worked with that 
launch, climbing back and forth over the thwarts, 
firing or working her rudder, as she pitched and 
Vol. XXXV. -91. 

rolled, frequently carrying me dangerously near 
the enemy's line. The glasses were upon me, and 
finally realizing the futility of my attempts to get 
back to the ship, they signaled to me, "Go 
ashore." I fired her well up and let her go. As I 
drew near the landing I steered from one Philip- 
pine boat, or "casco," to another, striking sidelong 
blows that set them dancing on the water as they 
retarded my speed, and when I finally achieved a 

Copyright, 1907, by Enrique Muller 

landing, filled with pride at my success as a mari- 
ner and a navigator, I raked the fire all out and 
tied her up. 

She was safe and sound and I knew it. I was 
indeed weary, having, single-handed and alone, 
in the face of a tropical squall, performed the 
task of five men. 

To me, the feat looked worth a glass of beer, 
and I went after it, not knowing that simulta- 
neously with signaling me to go ashore, a whale- 
boat had started after me, carrying the remain- 
der of the launch's crew. 

But I was soon to know that they reached the 
launch before I got back to it, the consequence 
being that instead of a medal in commemoration 
of a brave and daring deed I got five days in the 
brig on bread and water. 

However, having long since grown callous to 
these little courtesies, I embraced the opportunity 
to be tattooed by a ship-mate — not a star upon 
my forehead — but upon my breast, a big, red-and- 
blue design showing crossed cannon wrapped in 
the Stars and Stripes, while the American eagle, 




holding in his beak a banner with the inscription, 
"Manila, May i, 1898," will hover above a burst- 
ing shell through whose fire and smoke rides the 
glorious United States Flagship Olympia. 

When I walk with myself, I talk with myself, 
and myself says unto me, "Jack, if you were to 
pass a sentence of revenge upon your worst enemy, 
and you wanted to inflict the greatest torture your 
mind could conceive, what would it be?" Un- 
hesitatingly I answer, "Deprive him of sleep." 

The action of battle is inspiring. A typhoon 

be known to all Americans as the path-finder 
into Manila. 

Chapter XXII 




On June 30th the Charlie, accompanied by three 
troop-ships, arrived. It relieved us from gar- 
rison duty, but the manning of the Nanscn and 
Zafiro before we left Hong-Kong, together with 


que Muller 

with all its terror gives you a struggle for your 
life. But since the battle, with doing garrison 
duty on shore in addition to double watches on 
ship, I have come from the lookout, fixing my 
eyes six feet ahead of me where I was to drop 
for my rest, when it seemed absolutely that / 
could not live until I reached the spot. The sen- 
sation is something awful. 

Papers from the States show that this war is 
giving birth to heroes, and the sailormen of the 
Asiatic Squadron, if they might have a voice, 
would beg to say that Navigator Calkins should 

skeleton crews for the captured Callao and the 
launches we are using for river service, leaves 
us short-handed on all the ships ; but for a' that 
on the eighth of July the Concord and Raleigh 
had a picnic in Subig Bay, and remained in pos- 
session of Isle Grande, near Manila. 

On the sixteenth a cold-storage ship from Aus- 
tralia came in with a handsome cargo, which the 
admiral bought on sight. It was the first fit beef 
we have eaten since leaving San Francisco (all 
through the Orient they kill a species of caribao, 
or water-buffalo, for beef), and while we were 




regaling ourselves on the fruit of our good for- 
tune the China arrived with naval reinforce- 

It was a relief that brought with it a tightening 
of discipline. Few boats have returned from 
shore without bringing their complement of bat- 
tle spoils from Cavite, their accumulation gradu- 
ally changing the appearance of our decks into 
those of pleasure yachts, until one morning there 
came an order that cleared ship and left the bay 
afloat with rocking-chairs, sofas, and gilt-framed 

In coming here we were unable to bring our 
laundrymen from China or Japan, but the wash- 
ing problem solved itself in a most unexpected 
and satisfactory manner. 

In the storehouses of Cavite there are thou- 
sands of white sailor suits, which we confiscate 
at will, wearing them until soiled, then casting 
them adrift for a fresh suit. The cork helmets, 
too, we have adopted, finding them for com- 
fort's sake a vast improvement on our own head- 
gear for this climate. The most complimentary 
greeting exchanged now on shore is : "Halloo, is 
that you ? I thought it was Stanley in Africa." 

On the twenty-fifth, General Merritt came in 
on the Newport, and on the thirty-first, McAr- 
thur's reinforcements reached Cavite. Then fol- 
lowed councils of war; the officers of the army 
and of the navy meeting on board the Olympia to 
discuss grave matters, which culminated on Au- 
gust 7th, when Admiral Dewey and General Mer- 
ritt jointly demanded the surrender of Manila. 
It was refused, and once more we cleared for 
action and got ready to "cast loose and provide." 

On the morning of August 14th, the admiral 
announced that unless the Spanish authorities 
laid down their arms by noon the City of Manila 
would be bombarded by the Americans. This 
declaration was the signal for all foreign ships to 
withdraw to points of safety beyond possible 
lines of fire, and there was a general heaving of 
anchor and steaming away. Only the English 
fleet commanded by Admiral Sir Edward Chi- 
chester disobeyed. As we drew into battle-line 
his fleet followed, keeping within a few cable- 
lengths of our line, their ships all manned as 
though in review, and their band playing Ameri- 
can airs. 

Half a dozen broadsides from our ships cleared 
a path for our soldiers, through which they 
marched waist-deep in water, firing as they ad- 
vanced. It was an exultant onset. They took 
seven thousand prisoners, and when our colors 
broke, it should have been the Olympia to fire the 
first gun, but the English, just as a proud parent 
looking on at the graduation exercises of its off- 

spring, clapped his hands before the diploma was 
fairly in his son's grasp. So, the deep-voiced 
cannon of our mother country boomed the first 
salute to America's flag flying over Manila. 

It was a glorious victory, quickly followed by a 
cablegram from Washington commanding a ces- 
sation of hostilities, an opportunity that our ad- 
miral embraced to get us all back into shipshape 
once more. 

Singly and in pairs each ship returned to 
Hong-Kong and the Kowloon dry-docks. When 
our turn came, the flag with its accompanying 
ensign moved temporarily over to the Baltimore, 
and we rode out under the pennant of a new cap- 

It was only a little conceit that might be passed 
with a smile, but I am not alone in the opinion 
that, after all the hardships we had endured, 
including three months without shore-liberty, 
twenty-four hours at Hong-Kong would have 
been no stretch of generosity on his part. The 
crews of the ships that had preceded us had been 
given it even up to forty-eight hours ; in fact, it 
was their recital of the courteous reception ten- 
dered them by everybody in Hong-Kong that 
awoke us to the realization of what heroes we 

The boys on the Charlie are so sore not to have 
been in it that they could not without self-humili- 
ation show much homage, and the "gravel agita- 
tors" [soldiers] nursed the thought all the way 
out here that we were unable to do anything until 
they came to show us how. 

But in Hong-Kong, the Scotch Brigade, West 
Yorkshire, and the Queen's Own vied with one 
another doing us homage, while the British sail- 
ors received us like brothers. These were the 
conditions awaiting us in Victoria, and we were 
granted only a measly overnight liberty to enjoy 

The starboard had the second liberty, and as 
we gathered to return in the morning" some one 
called out, "Come on, let's break liberty!" The 
way the suggestion took, one unacquainted might 
have thought it original. There were one hun- 
dred and sixty of us in the bunch, mostly over- 
timers, and a corporal's guard could not have 
been mustered from the gang (all ship-overs) 
who returned on time. 

Two days later, when the Olympia's whistle 
blew a general recall, a few more, grown faint- 
hearted, obeyed its summons, while more than 
one hundred of us watched our good ship sail 

Of course there was a reward upon each head, 
but not a man who wore her Majesty's uniform 
could be bribed to lay a hand upon a hero! 




Our ship out of sight, we took up a tarpaulin 
muster, moved out to Happy Valley and set up 
camp. We were wearing our best suits, and feel- 
ing that they were not appropriate camping-togs, 
bought cheap white trousers and shirts and 
ceased to be sailors until, warned that time was 
approaching, we dressed as for muster, went in a 
body, and sat down outside of the U. S. Consu- 
late and waited until it was just nine days and 
twenty-three hours from the time we had left 
the ship. Then we reported ourselves "Strag- 
glers, clean and sober." 

It was up to the consul to look shocked and to 
make a speech. This he delivered in a manner 
that brought him vociferous cheering. He fin- 
ished by warning us to stop out by ourselves, 
bothering no one, and to report to him every 
morning between eight and ten and receive our 
allowance. (A silver dollar each.) 

This, in addition to what was left in the tar- 
paulin, put us on easy-deck, though it allowed no 
surplus for riotous living. 

We were unquestionably the attraction of 
Hong-Kong. Hundreds of people, representa- 
tives from all classes of society, flocked to see 

In due time the Concord came in and there 
were rejoicings over the meeting of old friends, 
although they each and all intimated that all 
sorts of undesirable things were waiting for us 
in Manila. 

Finally, there came a day when we went for 
our plunk, when the consul told us to come no 
more, but to be at the dock the next morning, as 
we were to return on the Concord. Oh, joy un- 
speakable ! A trip from Hong-Kong to Manila 
without a stroke of work ! The thought was in- 
toxicating, but we sobered quickly when we got 
on board, being put directly on duty while the 
Concord's crew slept all night in their hammocks, 
and, like passengers, laughed at us all day, not 
omitting to remind us that hammocks made de- 
lightful places to sleep ; for we, alas ! when off 
duty must drop on the bare decks. We worked 
like seamen with the accommodations of tramps. 

The captain who held sticks on the Olympia 
on our return did score us unmercifully. He has 
promised on the sacredness of all of his gold lace 
never to forget a man of us. He feels we have 
irredeemably disgraced the great American navy 
and that it is up to him to avenge it. 

I was put directly back on duty in the ad- 
miral's launch. The admiral, bless him ! is so 
very busy with a great many things that I fancy 
he really has forgotten if he ever heard what an 
escapade one hundred and one blue- jackets have 
been having. 

Chapter XXIII 



It was like returning to school after vacation. 
In a very few days we all settled back into our 
regular grooves, performing our tasks like so 
many automatons. Double watches and garrison 
duty were things of the past. We enjoyed once 
more the delights of port life. General Merritt 
is on his way to Paris to take part in the Peace 
Conference, and we seem to be only waiting. 

Small-arm practice makes a delightful pastime, 
and there is only one better shot with a pistol 
than Dewey, and that is freckled-face Pete of 
Texas. Pete is a newcomer, and the first time 
we had rifle target practice he made some shots 
that his division officer complimented. Pete re- 
plied, "Oh, I ain't much shucks with a gun, but 
I 'm jist pizen with a pistol," and he made good 
his boast that he could make Buffalo Bill or the 
glass-ball shooters appear like amateurs. 

Manila is ours, and we are getting as much out 
of it in the way of pleasure as we are capable of. 
Our soldiers hold the fort and do the martyr act. 

If the volunteer soldier amounts to a hill of 
beans after this busines is over it won't be the 
fault of the ladies of America. Every ship that 
comes is ballasted with sewing bags and red flan- 
nel bandages for the soldiers. 

We are not envious, we do not want nor need 
their gifts, and just, will own that a sailor's 
life in Manila is not half so arduous as that of 
the soldier ; for while we are sleeping well housed 
between decks, they, poor fellows, are often ly- 
ing in muddy trenches under a deluging rain. 

A genuine comradeship exists between the 
army and the navy. 

There is a veritable colony of Associated Press 
representatives here, and the folks at home are 
reading every word they write. 

At first the newness of things rendered it in- 
teresting, but when Thanksgiving came about, I 
searched my heart, and found the most genuine 
thankfulness there was that I had not been born 
either a Spaniard or a Filipino. With this burst 
of gratitude written to my own credit I drifted 
with the tide of events until one night, just after 
we had turned in, Chalmers came to my ham- 
mock and said : 

"Jack, you are drafted for home, and on to the 
Nero to-morrow." 

"Go to blazes !" I said. 

"Sure, Jack ; it is straight goods." But I could 
not believe it. 

Seven months had gone by since the battle and 
not a man had been sent home. I lay and 




thought as hard as the weather would permit me 
to think, and, finally, when the breathing from the 
long rows of hammocks grew into a regular ca- 
dence, dropped from mine and ran lightly for- 
ward to the bulletin-board. Could I believe my 
eyes? There were forty-nine names on the 
draft, and mine third on the list. 

I shouted and I yelled. 
The officer-of-the-deck sent 
for me and would have put 
me into the brig for disturb- 
ing the ship's slumber, but 
when I told him the cause 
he excused me, as he did also 
from the watch. 

I was told that I might 
sleep all night ; but though I 
believe I lay as motionless as 
the guns in their sponsons, I 
never closed my eyes. 

At nine o'clock in the 
morning I went over the side, 
Andy, ever faithful, helping 
me with my diddy-box and 
bag. There followed a few 
busy days in making ready, 
and, finally, one evening, 
when the effulgent splendor 
of a tropical sunset hung its 
banner for a background, the 
Olympia s band came on 
deck, and a homeward- 
bounder broke from the 
Nero's mainmast as the 
blessed strains of " Home, 
Sweet Home" floated into 
the twilight ; then I threw 
my cap into the water and 
put my hands to my mouth, 
shouting, " Good-by, A?idy! " 
and thought I heard through 
the din an answering, "Aye, 
aye, Jack." 

The piston-rods slid slow 
at first and then, with four 

bells and a jingle, the engineer threw open the 
throttle and away we went. I stood upon the 
deck looking back. It was the moment I had 
waited and prayed for, and still I was not glad. 
For three years and eight months the proud ship 
had been my home ; and it was with a sickening, 
sinking feeling I watched it fading and fading, a 
leaden streak that dwindled into a black spot 
against a lurid sky. and I wondered when and 
where I should ever see her again. 

We are taking back a lot of Spanish cannon, 
Mauser rifles, cartridges, etc., as trophies of war. 

Our voyage must have been void of interest or 
incident but for three little occurrences. The 
first happened on our tenth day out. We had not 
sighted land for days, and were therefore not a 
little surprised to see a snow-white dove perched 
upon one of our yard-arms, where it remained 
throughout the forenoon ; then, spreading its 


wings, it swooped down, circled above our heads 
and darted away landward. 

Scotty Ross says it was no dead sailor, or it 
would have been a sea-bird. We want to bet that 
the Peace Treaty was signed in Paris on the 
tenth of December. 

The second event was a typhoon that washed 
our chicken-coops overboard, thereby robbing us 
of a portion of our intended Christmas dinner ; 
but fate or the skipper directed our course in 
such a manner that we got stuck on the meridian, 
and had two Christmas days instead of one. We 



were compensated for the loss of fowl by being 
served with plum-duff on both festivals. Duff 
at sea is no longer a mixture of flour and water 
boiled into the consistency of molten lead, and 
eaten with black molasses, but has evolved into a 
very good plain pudding. 

The third and last event worth mention oc- 
curred less than a week ago. 

Dozing in the rigging, I was startled into 
wakefulness to find myself lying flat against the 
mast, face down, looking straight down into the 
deep ; then the stern settled back and with a 
wallow surged into a chasm of ocean left by a 
mountain of water that rolled on like a single 
chord, struck, all out of tune, from a Wagnerian 

A general summons was blown, but before all 
hands could muster the ship had righted herself, 
and there was naught to see save a blue sea hur- 
rying on ahead. The deck officer confirmed our 
suppositions — it was a tidal wave. 

"If you take the glasses and go aloft you ought 
to see the Farallones," said the Nero's executive 

officer ; and, sure enough, there they were ! Oh, 
the sight of them ! It brought on a flood of mem- 
ories that all but engulfed me. I tried to recall 
"What might have been," but it was futile. I 
hurried below to gather my belongings and to 
finish my writing, and now, sitting on my diddy- 
box with my book on my knee, I have only time 
to write that I would rather have been in the Bat- 
tle of Manila than to have been a member of the 
United States Senate ! 

On the crimson path of the setting sun we are 
sailing in through the Golden Gate. In another 
hour the bo's'n will pipe: "Take in your foresail, 
mainsail, and spanker, and make them up for a 
full do. Do you h-e-a-r that, now?" My head 
and my heart are throbbing; my hand trembles 
and my eyes grow dim. 

To-morrow I shall go ashore and take up the 
thread of my old life where it was broken; but if 
ever again while I have health and strength the 
American eagle should shriek for help I shall be 
among the first to answer; and if any one seek 
me, let him look — where he will surely find me — 
"behind the guns." 

Copyright, 190;, by Enrique Mullet 


His name is Guardian, 
I don't know just how old. 
'Come here, sir! Give your 
paw!" Oh, yes, 
He does what he is told. 

"Dozvn, down, I say! Why don't you mind?' 
He really has to run 
And jump about a little, lest 
he 's too brimful of fun. 

Well, — no. You can't exactly say 

he 's any special kind. 
When I came home from school one day 

he followed close behind. 

I 'm not to speak to stranger dogs,. 

but though we could n't play, 
That little beast would wag his tail 

if I just looked his way! 

We tried them at the stable, first — 
they did n't need him there ; 

And Ellen could n't keep him, 

for he "gave her such a scare." 

And even Mother thought perhaps 

he 'd better run away ; 
But when she saw how thin he was, 

of course he had to stay. 

So then we fed him thoroughly 

and made him very clean, 
And let him lie beside the door — 

outside the door, I mean. 

And Sister called him "Wanderer" 

the afternoon he came : 
Until we thought that "Guardian" 

was a politer name. 

And now when people come 
to tea and sit and talk 
and eat, 
'; And Fluff and Frill and 
Guardian are scrambling 
at their feet, 

And Sister says, "I hope the dogs 

are not disturbing you ?" 
They always pat him with the rest — ■ 

at least, they often do. 

Of course, he 's not a pretty dog, 

like Sister's Frill or Fluff; — 
/ like the color of him, though, 

that sort of brownish-buff. 

His coat is neither rough nor smooth — 

it 's something just between; 
I think he has good-looking eyes, 

they 're such an honest green ! 

Of course, he 's not a dog-show dog, 

he 's not the kind, you know; 
They never have a single class 

in which that doe can go. 


But Sister says if 
could count, 
looks be just 

'd win a ribbon ev- 
ery year, without 
the slightest doubt ! 

"FluFF"*nd "Frill" 


I i : m, ■"'■,* „':«<< " l ' l ': , " ; su*^' V «; . i >j ,1. V 

••' ■*- 



Happychapter r VI 

k ELL, as I told you the other 
Old General Happychap 

thought of a way 
To do the thing as it should 

be done, 
And please his people, 
every one. 

For the dear old chap- 
Liked all to be happy, 
And hated to see anybody 

So he decreed that the new ^metropolis, 
The beautiful city of Jollipopolis, 
Should have every sort of a dwelling-place 
That ever was known to any race ; 
Every kind of a habitation, 
Whether a mound or an excavation. 
Each one should choose his residence, 
From the grandest mansions to humblest tents, 
From the deepest den to the tallest tower, 
From the plainest cave to the gayest bower ; 
A perch or a roost or a pit or a lair, 
Down in the earth or up in the air. 
A manse or a grange or a lodge or a hall, 
A cote or a coop or a hutch or a stall, 
Or even a shanty, 
With rooms small and scanty, 
The architects planned for them all. 
For a clever Happychap architect 
All sorts of dwellings can erect, 
And he '11 draw a plan 
For any man 
Of the kind he may select. 

The architects soon were working away, 
Turning off plans by night and by day. 
Skiddoodles and Happychaps formed in lines, 
And awaited their turn to get designs, 
Specifications, and front elevations — : 

Vol. XXXV.— 92. 7 

With mysterious symbols and signs. 
As soon as a Happychap grasped the sheet 
That represented his dwelling complete, 
He flew for the carpenters, masons, and plumbers, 
And they all worked away like an army of hum- 
Then things went a-whizzing ; and I can tell you 
There was a great racket and hullabaloo 
From the time they began with their spades and 

Till, the whole town was done, and ready for 


But you must remember these dwellings were 

Why, some were of just about no size at all ! 

A Happychap hut 

Was as big as a nut 
And their churches were only half an inch tall ! 
But all of the work was most carefully done, 




And of all the buildings, not one single one 
Was slighted or scamped in the smallest particu- 
The floors were all level, the walls perpendicular, 
And all the material 

was of the best, 
Whether used for a hive, 

a web, or a nest. 
Happychaps and Skid- 
doodles both worked 
with a will, 
With untiring energy, 
patience, and skill. 
The days flew by 

And the city at last 
Began to assume an im- 
posing effect, 
Which of course was no 
more than one might 
Though you may have 
traveled the wide 
world around, 
I 'm perfectly sure that 
you never have found 
In any place anywhere 

under the sun 
A city anything like 

this one. 
Why, just imagine! The 
streets so wide, 
Had Happychap houses on either side; 
And across these streets, attached to the trees, 
The spiders' big, shining webs swung in the 

breeze ; 
From the green branches fine hanging-nests were 

Whose beauty of structure was highly com- 
mended ; 
And on the high boughs there was many a nest 
Of the little round kind that some birds like the 

Then, beside all these dwellings, 'way up in the air, 
There were others, 'way down in the ground, I 

The woodchucks and moles 
Dug curious holes, 
And the ants built up sand into queer little knolls. 



They dug all around 

Down under the ground ; 
With such method and skill their work was con- 
Subways and tunnels and tubes they constructed. 


But some in the earth or the air cannot dwell, 
So the building went on in the water as well. 
Timothy Terrapin built him a home 
Down 'neath the lapping wavelets' foam; 




With a speaking-tube long, 
Which was slender yet strong. 


And he said to the Happychaps, "There, now, 

don't fret, 
You can all talk to me without getting wet!" 

Queen Humsum summoned her bees to her aid, 
And they made the best hive that ever was made 

They worked night and day 

(You know bees work that way, 
The bees and the beavers are busy, they say) 
The spiders were always cutting up tricks, 
And often a worker would get in a fix. 

If a spider met one, 

Before he could run, 
The spider a web around him had spun ! 
And sometimes when Messenger Happychap 

To take a short rest against a fence propped, 

A mischievous spider, 

A soft, noiseless glider, 
Would sneak up, and spin a long web 
round and round, 

And the messenger found 

As he sat on the ground 
Secure to the fence he was bound ! 
Then every one laughed and chuckled with glee, 
For the Happychap folk were merry, you see. 
But aside from their mischief, the spiders were 

To spin any kind of a rope or a cable ; 
And on water and land 
These were in such demand, 
To haul in a boat, or to hoist a big steeple, 
It 's lucky that they were industrious people. 
'Rastus Happychap built him a cabin, of course, 
Where a melcm-patch always was kept in full 

force ; 
And those melons attained such remarkable size, 
It made all the Happychaps open their eyes. 

When they asked how he raised 'em, 
His answer amazed 'em, 
He said: "Laws, chillen dear, I digs an' I hoes, 
Deri I jest plants de seeds, an' den dey jest 

grows !" 
The lightning-bugs, fireflies, and glow-worms 

joined forces, 
And achieved great success by combining re- 
They said they would light the whole of the city, 
And the way that they did it was certainly pretty. 
A site in the center of town they selected, 


And there a great palace of glass they erected. 
'T was as high as could be, and about twice as 

With cornice and gables on every side, 
Of faceted crystal that glistened and gleamed 








And twinkled and sparkled and dazzled and While Raggledy Happychap gave a few wags 

beamed, Of his head, and said, "/ like my well-fitting 
As the myriad creatures their radiant light rags." 

In the great crystal palace diffused every night. 

Then the wise City Fathers a post-office planned, 
For they said, "We '11 get letters from every 

The postmaster old Mr. Bookworm must be, 
No one is quite such a scholar as he." 
Now this worked quite well at first, but, alas ! 
A painful misfortune soon came to pass ; 
The post-office was right in every detail, 
But nobody seemed to get any mail ! 
And this was the reason. If you will believe it ! 
The mail came — old Bookworm was there to re- 
ceive it — 
But when Happychaps for their letters would 

The greedy old fellow 
had eaten them all! 
Some post-cards 

he 'd munch 
By way of a lunch; 
And then later on, the 

wicked old sinner ! 
Would eat all the let- 
ters up for his din- 
ner ! 

Still Jollipopolis grew 

on apace, 
And quickly became 
a most flourishing 
The shops were so fine 
and their windows 
so big, 
And all of their wares 

so tidy and trig. 
The markets were am- 
ple, as you may sup- 
And the wares were 
displayed in long, tempting rows. 
Skiddoodles and Happychaps came every day, 
Bringing baskets to take their provisions away. 
The tailor shops showed most remarkable rigs, 
For they had to fit all sorts, from turtles to grigs. 
Dude Horace Hoptoad looked in and said, 
"Crick-ee !" while his eyes 'most popped out of 

his head. 
Percy Porcupine muttered, "I love those lace 

And I think they 'd look sweet hanging round on 

my quills. reading the "daily buzz.' 


.1 ' r 

V«'sy f'-T 


As the dwellings were finished, they all settled 

And each did his share toward ruling the town. 

The bees could n't find enough work for them- 

So they built a fine office with desk room and 
shelves ; 

They started a paper, and, to their elation, 

"The Daily Buzz" soon had a wide circulation. 

And what do you think that "Daily Buzz" said, 

In its first editorial, which they all read? 
• But I can't tell you now, 
For some way or somehow, 

The space is used up, so run out and play, 

And we '11 take up the Happychaps some other 

It does n't hurt to cut them, 

Yet children often cry, 
When Mother trims their finger-nails- 

I wish they 'd tell me why. 



No matter where we children are 

We run in answer to the bell, 
And dinner comes in piping hot ; 

It makes us hungry just to smell. 

Poor Father sharpens up his knife, 

And carves with all his might and main ; 

But long before he 's had a bite 

Our Willie's plate comes back again. 

We eat our vegetables and meat, 
For Mother, who is always right, 

Says those who wish to have dessert, 
Must show they have an appetite. 

And when a Sunday comes around, 
So very, very good we seem, 

You 'd think 'most any one could tell 
That for dessert we 'd have ice-cream. 




Rainy-r>ayAimisemeivts in. the Nursery 




Don't throw away your old envelops. See what 

amusing toys can be made of them simply by 

folding and cutting. No paste or glue is needed, The frog is one of the simplest and at the same 

and any one of the toys given here can be made time the funniest of the collection. Figure 2 

in five minutes or less. gives a side view in which his beautiful open 





month can be seen to advantage. Figure 3 shows 
him sprawled out on the table. A, Figure 1, gives 
the pattern of the frog as it appears when drawn 
on the envelop. You will notice that the bottom 
fold of the envelop is vised for the top of the ani- 
mal. Draw the outlines as in A, then cut along 
the lines you have drawn. The under part of the 
body follows the edge of the lower lap of the en- 


For the little bed (Fig. 4) use a long envelop. If 
the top lap is open cut it off. Flatten out the bot- 


velop from front to hind leg. Now flatten out 
the fold at the top, and bend the paper under at 
the corners, which form the head and tail. Cut 

torn fold as you did for the frog's back, then bend 
the ends and sides as in B in Figure 1. Bend up 
the points at each end for head and foot boards, 
and there is your bed. 


Make the table (Fig. 5) of a smaller envelop in 
the same way, but leave the points extending out 
at the ends and cut short legs on the bottom edge 
(see Fig. 5 below). 

Plates and other dishes can be made very 
easily. For circular dishes use a cent or a ten- 
cent piece for a pattern. Very effective cups and 
goblets can be made from old pieces of tin foil. 


a slit along the folded edge of the head for the 
mouth, pull the lower part down and the mouth 
will open wide as a frog's mouth naturally does. 
By working the lower jaw the frog can be made 
to snap at imaginary flies. Draw the eyes as 
shown in Figures 2 and 3, bend down the lower 
part of the body along the dotted line, shown in 
A, in Figure 1, spread out the hind legs, and 
Master Frog is finished. 
Vol. XXXV. -93. 


The table, however, is strong enough to hold the 
little china or tin dishes usually found among a 
child's collection of toys. 





The little bungalow (Fig. 6) is something very 
different, yet it, too, is made of an envelop. 
Though it appears to have many parts it is all in 
one piece. The envelop is a long one, such as is 
used for legal papers (C in Fig. i gives the pat- 
tern). The heavy lines show where to cut and 


The little cart (Figs. 9 and 11) that will hold 
quite a heavy doll and can be trundled about like 
one made of wood, is not cut at all. 

Fold an oblong envelop in the box shape (B, 
Fig. 1 ) with the points turned up, but let the points 
be deeper than for the bed or sofa. This is because 


the dotted lines where to bend. The lap forms 
the front porch, but the porch may be left off 
entirely if the envelop has been slit at the top in 
opening it. With a little care, however, many 
envelops can be opened intact. Cut along the 
heavy lines of the door and windows, then open 
the door and the little shutters. Bend back the 
ends of the house and in the middle of each end 
take a little plait from top to bottom. This is to 
make the ends narrower and give room for the 
roof to slant. Bend the roof back from the eaves 
along the dotted line. The back of the bungalow 
is made like the front, except that it has no door, 
windows, or porch. Children who have a knack 
at drawing can greatly improve the bungalow by 
drawing the slats to the blinds, drawing in the 
paneling on the front door, putting on the knob, 
putting shingles on the roof, etc., etc. 

the ends of the envelop are to form the sides of the 
cart and must be longer from front to back. Bend 
the tips of the points in and crease the folds 
sharply that they may lie flat against the sides. 
Sharpen one end of a small, round stick and push 
it through the middle of the folded point on one 
side, then slide a large, empty spool on the stick 
and thrust the point of the stick through the op- 
posite side (Fig. 11). The stick should stand out 
beyond the cart about half an inch on each side, 
and will need no fastening. 

Puncture a hole in one end of the cart, thread 
a cotton string through the hole, tie a large knot 
on the inside end and pull the string through un- 
til the knot presses close against the end of the 
cart. Let the string be long enough to reach 
easily from the floor to the little hand that will 
hold the other end. 





A little bath-tub, but one that will scarcely hold 
water, is shown in Fig. 7. In this the upper lap 

two front edges which gives an opening in front, 
as well as at the top. Bend down this front piece, 
cut it off on a line with the two ends, and that is 


A deep, low-seated arm-chair can be made of an 
. oblong envelop of ordinary size by following the 
directions for the sofa and allowing the back to 
curve instead of making it flat, then slitting 
down the sides and bending them over to form 
the arms (see Fig. 10). 

Besides all these toys, a babies' cradle that has 
rockers and will rock, a cunning little dressing- 


is left open, the points are bent under and the 
sides left to curve naturally. A baby carriage 
can also be made in this way, but for the carriage 
the points must extend down and have wheels 
drawn on them and the tips must be cut off 
squarely at the bottom so that the carriage will 
stand. The lap is the back and the handle in one. 


The comfortable little high-backed sofa (Fig. 8) 
is made of a long envelop with the top lap left 


open. Fold the envelop into the box shape, as 
for the bed, with the points turned up. Then 
fold the tips of the points inward, as in D in Fig- 
ure 1. Now reverse the box and slit down the 


table with its mirror, boxes of different shapes 
and sizes, and various kinds of baskets can be 
made of the old envelop. Probably there are 
other forms it may be made to assume. Boats, 
perhaps, that for a time at least will float on the 
water, and animals other than the frog. In fact 
I have n't sufficient space to describe the possi- 
bilities of the waste-basket envelop. 

It may add to the children's enjoyment if they 



enter into a contest for making the greatest num- 
ber of recognizable articles, with a prize for the 
largest collection. 






HE next morning, the little Cub Bear woke up 
very early and rubbed his eyes and wondered if 
any animal would come that day. He listened 
and listened but he heard nothing. Suddenly 
there was a loud "Bang! Bang!" and they 
knew that some animal was coming. The little 
Cub Bear ran to the mouth of the den where 
he could hear a rustling sound. He looked 
down the path, but could see nothing. He 
looked again and this time he looked up among 
the branches of the trees because he thought it 
might be a bird coming. And what do you 
think he saw? Away up among the branches 
of the trees he could see an animal's head. 
He said, " I see an animal's head moving among 
the trees. His head has large ears and very 
large eyes, and two horns different from any 
horns I ever saw. They are blunt on the end 
and stick straight up, and seem to have hair on 
the end of the horns. I can't see the animal, 
but I see a long, long neck, covered with big 
yellow spots. As the animal comes nearer I 
can see more of his neck. And now I can see 
his legs and his body. His body looks some- 
thing like a horse, only the hind legs are much 
shorter than the front legs. If you tried to ride 
on his back you would slip off behind, because 
it is slanting like a hill, and all covered with 
ffi4WlP6ii, "''!'%, ^Wii •> triese yellow spots." Just then the owl saw this 

"ML animal, and he said," Who-o-oo! Who-o-o-o!"; 

but the animal did not answer a word. He 
came along. Just as he came to the mouth of 
the den, the Circus Bear said, " I know who 
that is. That is Mr. Giraffe. Ask him to come 
in." So the little Cub Bear said very politely, " Come in, Mr. Giraffe." But, of 
course, the giraffe could not come in. At last he knelt down and stuck his long 


neck into the cave, and the Cub Bear said to him, " We are going to try to build 
a house big enough for all the animals, so if they come to see us we will have a place 
for them to stay. Can you help us?" And the giraffe said, ( 'I would be very glad 
to help you if I could, because your brother was very good to me when we were 
in the circus." And little Cub Bear said, " What can you do?" And the giraffe 
said, "I don't know. I never built a house in my life. I eat the leaves off the 


trees and live outdoors, just like horses and zebras and cows. I never had any 
home." But he said, "I have the longest neck of any animal in the whole world, 
and if there is anything up in the air you want me to look for, or if there is any- 
thing a long way off that you would like to have me see, I think I can look for 
it for you." And the little Cub Bear suddenly thought of the hole way back in the 
dark part of the cave, where the wind came from, and he said, "I wish you would 
come in and see if you can put your head through a hole there is in the back 
part of the cave. Maybe you will find something." And the giraffe said, " I 
will be very glad to try." And so he wriggled and twisted and got into the den, 
and crawled into the very back part, and he found a hole, and it was just 
large enough for his head and long neck. He stuck his head further and further 




into the hole, and stayed there so long, that the little Cub Bear was afraid 
something was wrong, so he and the monkey took hold of the giraffe's tail and 
pulled back just as hard as they could. After awhile the giraffe pulled his head 
out of the hole, and the Cub Bear said, "What did you see?" And the giraffe 
said, "I found it very dark, and I had to keep my head in a long time, so that 
my eyes would get used to the darkness, but I could see that there seemed to be 
a large room, a large cave back of this cave. I could n't see the end of it at all. I 
think if we could only get into this room, we would have a place large enough 
for all the animals in the circus, if they wanted to come here to live." And 
the little Cub Bear said, "My! Would n't that be nice? I wonder, if all the 
animals would help, if we could n't break down the rock and get into this 



|HE next morning early the little Cub Bear heard the "Bang! Bang! "of 
the beaver's tail and rushed to the mouth of the cave and there he saw 
a very large animal, with two horns on the end of his nose, and a funny- 
looking skin, hard and horny. He knew at once that the ani- 
mal was a rhinoceros that the lion had told about before. The 
owl said, "Who-o-o-o, w-h-o-o?" and the animal 
answered with a terrible snort and r-o-a-r. Then the 
rhinoceros came to the mouth of the cave and the. little 
bear said, " I am very glad that you came, because 
we are trying to build a house that will be large 
enough to hold all the animals that used to live in the 
Circus, and the giraffe tells us that there is a large 
cave back of this cave, and if we can only break 
through, we will have a house that will be big enough 
for us all." Then the rhinoceros said, "What can I 
do, for I would like to help; your brother was very 
good to me when we were in the Circus and I would 
be glad to do anything that I can." The little Cub 
Bear said, "I think that with that great horn of yours, you could help to tear 
out some of the dirt and rocks, and the monkeys and the bears could then carry 
them out. Perhaps the elephant could be hitched to the chariot, and we could 
carry out some of the dirt and rocks in the chariot." The rhinoceros said that he 
would be very glad to do this. 

So he walked into the cave and began to pick at the sides of the cave with the 
biggest one of his two horns. And soon the rocks and big lumps of dirt came 
tumblincr down. The little Cub Bear stood near the rhinoceros with a basket in 
his hands to carry out the dirt; but he could not carry out the big, heavy pieces, 
so he had to get his father and mother to help him. All the other animals came 
in and sat down near the door of the cave, and watched the rhinoceros dig out 
the rocks and dirt. Pretty soon the cave was a great deal bigger than it was 
before, and as the rhinoceros had grown very tired he stopped his work and 


>> li 





went out to take a rest. At last the cave was big enough to hold all the 
animals. To be sure, the elephant and the giraffe had to get down on their 
knees and crawl in, because they were so tall, but they did not mind that. It 
was now supper-time, so all the animals had their supper, and by the time it was 
dark every one of them was fast asleep inside the cave. 




Bushy undergrowths or thickets in partial clearings form the home of the chat. After an acquaintance of many years, I frankly 
confess that his true character is a mystery to me. While listening to his strange medley and watching his peculiar actions, we are 
certainly justified in calling him eccentric, but that there is method in his madness no one who studies him closely can doubt. 

Is the odd jumble of whistles, chucks, and caws uttered by one bird in that copse yonder, or by half a dozen different birds in as 
many places? Approach cautiously, and perhaps you may see him in the air — a bunch of feathers twitched downward by the queer, 
jerky notes which animate it. One might suppose so peculiar a performance would occupy his entire attention, but nevertheless he 
has seen you ; in an instant his manner changes, and the happy-go-lucky clown, who, a moment before was turning aerial somer- 
saults, has become a shy, suspicious haunter of the depths of the thicket, whence will come his querulous chut, chid, as long as your 
presence annoys him. — Frank M. Chapman. 


The oddities of the yellow-breasted chat begin 
even with his classification. To think of a war- 
bler the size of a Baltimore oriole ! A warbler 


with a song like a mocking-bird ! Indeed, there 
is little about the chat that is not remarkable ; he 
goes in for the weird and the spectacular. If 

nature designed him to show what she could do 
in the way of the unusual and the eccentric she 
had remarkable success. 

This bird, and not the catbird, is the real 
"clown of the woods." Clown of the thicket 
would be more apt, for, like the catbird, he pre- 
fers the shrub and lower trees ; a wild tangle of 
briars and vines is a favorite haunt. It is only 
the better to survey such a retreat that he mounts 
to the top of a tree. From his lofty perch he 
sings, to the amazement and bewilderment of 
the person that hears the song for the first time. 
More likely than not he will become invisible and 
silent upon the first attempt to approach him, re- 
maining quiet and hidden till you move on again ; 
then he chuckles loudly and scolds and spits and 
scoffs till you are out of sight and hearing. 

No bird is so fearful of being seen or such a 
master of hide-and-seek. It is worse than use- 
less to try to steal a march on him. He manages 
to be always on the wrong side of the next bush, 
the one way to find his nest, which is a pretty 
little basket of straws and weed-stalks, lined with 
fine grasses and strips of soft bark or leaves 
placed a foot or more above the ground among 
tall weeds, or bushes. The sitting bird steals 
away and is at once lost to sight. Take a peep 
at the white, red-speckled eggs and then hide 
among the bushes as far away from the nest as 
you can while still keeping it in sight. You may 
have to wait for an hour and even make other 
trips to the spot, but this is the surest way to get 
a good look at this shy one. 



Outlandish is the only word for the actions of 
a chat hovering high over his bushy haunt with 
dangling legs and ungainly flapping wings — a pet 
diversion. He is performing for his brown mate 
on her nest near by; he now fairly outdoes even 
himself. From the time he mounts laboriously 
until he drops helplessly back among the bushes 
his appearance is that of a clownish creature 
experimenting for the first time with wings and 
tail, and making a signal failure of it. 

Not content with squawking, squealing, mew- 
ing and barking all day, he likes nothing better 
than to wake the peaceful birds by his midnight 
solos. More than once on a moonlight night, I 
have been aroused by his sputtering. "Put-put- 
put, tut-tut-tut, cut-cut-cut-cut," he calls dis- 



Now he barks like a puppy, then quacks like a duck, then rattles like 

a kingfisher, then squalls like a fox, then caws like a crow, then mews 

like a cat. Now he calls as if to be heard a long way off , then changes 

his key, as if addressing the spectator. — John Burroughs. 

tinctly. A song sparrow or a chippy trills softly, 
thinking it is matin-time, but at once a volley of 
"cuts" and a loud burst of genuine hilarity greets 
him. It is the yellow-breasted chat enjoying one 
of his practical jokes. 

Edmund J. Sawyer. 
Vol. XXXV. -94-95. 



It is claimed that the alligator farm in Hot 
Springs, Arkansas, is larger than that in St. Au- 
gustine, Florida, and that these two are the only 
farms of the kind. The farm in Hot Springs is 
on a small mountain stream that feeds a series of 
little lakes or ponds. These are made use of to 
form the "breeding grounds," "stock yards" and 
"winter quarters" for this stock industry. 

There are at all times on this farm between 
five hundred and eight hundred alligators, rang- 
ing in size from little baby 'gators, less than six 
inches long, up to Big Joe, nearly fifteen feet 
long. The little fellows have all been hatched 
on the farm, but the big ones were caught in the 
swamps and bayous of the South. 

The alligator is a cannibal, and for that reason 
it is necessary to separate the ponds by means of 
heavy wire netting and to place reptiles of very 
nearly the same size in each inclosure. Big Joe, 
the monarch of the establishment, weighing 
nearly six hundred pounds, is kept by himself. 
Otherwise, it is alleged, he would soon be the 
only alligator there. 

The eggs are placed in incubators quite similar 




to those for hatching chickens. After being 
hatched the little ones are placed in a separate 
inclosure, to prevent their elder brothers and sis- 


ters from eating them. They grow very slowly, 
so that an alligator two feet long is about two 
years of age, and one twelve feet long may be 
fifteen years or more. Some reach a length of 
sixteen or eighteen feet. 

If allowed to follow their hibernating habits 

in captivity, the alligators would bury themselves 
in the mud and lie dormant for nearly half of 
the year, and business would have to be sus- 
pended during that time on the alligator farm. 
Some way had to be devised for avoiding, in 
part, at least, this hibernating instinct. The win- 
ter quarters are in a long, low building divided 
into many compartments. Each compartment 
contains a pool of water through which run 
steam pipes, so that the water can be kept at a 
constant temperature. One small pond will con- 
tain two hundred or three hundred alligators. 

Hundreds of baby alligators are sold every 
year to patrons of the health resort at Hot 
Springs for pets, for home aquariums, and for 
curious mementos to be sent to distant friends. 
For these purposes little creatures not more than 
six inches long are preferred. Reptiles of larger 
size, from two feet in length up to the largest 
that can be obtained, are sold for use as adver- 
tising novelties, and for exhibition in amusement 
parks, museums, shows, and menageries. Large 
numbers of all sizes are killed, stuffed, and 




He does this again and again, evidently enjoying the sensation of gliding and the splash in the pool. 

mounted in striking or fantastic attitudes and cases, satchels, handbags, belts, pocketbooks, and, 
used for ornamental and decorative purposes, in fact, almost anything that can be made of 
The skins are tanned and manufactured into suit leather. The durability, beauty, and costliness of 

They spend much of their time on the bank of the pool. 




the tanned hides cause them to be esteemed 
among the most desirable of leather materials. 
Even the teeth are not wasted, being manufac- 
tured into small ornaments and articles of jew- 
elry or sold as curiosities. 

The owner of the farm, Mr. H. I. Campbell, 
commonly known as "Alligator Joe," writes to 
"Nature and Science" as follows regarding their 
winter care and the demand for the animals : 

Hot Springs, Ark. 
Dear St. Nicholas: By keeping the water and 
the building warm, the alligators are kept active 
and in no way dormant, as many people think, 
and every day, no matter how cold, I can give 
exhibitions of them shooting the chutes, etc. I 
house them about November fifteenth, and they 
remain in winter quarters until about April first. 
By constantly selling the larger sizes I have to 
replenish my stock, so I make about three hunts 
a year in Louisiana for new stock, which I bring 
here and breed from. I kill hundreds while hunt- 
ing for them in the swamps at night by "shin- 
ning" their eyes with a bull's-eye lantern — what 
we call "headlighting." These skins are used in 
the manufacturing of goods, etc. The alligators 
I raise on the farm are worth more alive than 
they would be for their skins; for instance, a 
baby alligator is n't worth a cent for his skin, 
but I cannot raise enough for sale, alive, as the 
demand for them is so large. 

Yours very truly, 

Ff. I. Campbell, 
"Alligator Joe." 


I had read how the peasants in some parts of 
Europe believed, until rather recent times, that 





geese are hatched from the stalked barnacles 1 at- 
tached to driftwood or to the branches of trees 
which are submerged in the sea at high tide. I, 
of course, knew that these plant geese existed 
only in the lively imagination of these unlearned 
and unobserving persons, and that they had mis- 
taken the waving filaments of the feeding cirri- 
peds, as they protruded from the shell, for the 
tiny wings of goslings with immature feathers. I 
had also learned incidentally that the word barna- 
cle (meaning "burnt") like "brant." refers to the 
burnt black color of the birds, and that the term 
barnacle was derived from the name of the bird 
and not the term bernicle (geese) from the crus- 

These plant geese were the result of imperfect 
observation. I was therefore still more surprised 
to learn that the formation of floral geese could 
be seen by one whose power of observation has 
been cultivated and does not "jump at conclu- 
sions." One day as I walked along a path in my 
garden I picked a branch' of balsam beautifully in 
full bloom. But imagine my astonishment when 
upon careful examination I discovered several 
"geese" on the lower side of nearly every blos- 
som. If I should heed the botanist he would 
smile and say, "They are not geese on your bal- 
sam or Impaticns. They are 'spurred sepals.' " 
But just then I let fancy, rather than the botanist, 
have the say ; and in that spirit, the geese with 
some assistance flew in great flocks from the 
stalk and away and away they went until they 
fluttered down to a glassy sea, where their 
graceful forms were reflected in the mirroring 
depths. As they swam among the islands of 
moss on the shining surface, I pursued them with 
the camera, and caught three to give you a nearer 

can find and capture an entire flock on the balsam 
in your garden. 

Continuing the fancy, one might easily imagine 


or play that Mother Nature, for our floral geese 
hunting, has made provision so that "guns" near 
at hand may be used as well as a camera. . But 
she has seemingly done it in a joke — ludicrously 
exaggerating the firearms. The pods that "go 
off" with a "bang" upon a slight touch at the 
"triggers" (the tip ends of the pods) throw the 
"cannon-balls" (the seeds) to a great distance. 
The discharge is so sudden, so snappy, and the 
contortions and intertwinings of the parts of the 
pods so intricate that they make one jump, ex- 
claim, and laugh, all at once. 

Most country young folks are familiar with the 
" going off" of the long slender pods of the wild 
balsam or jewel-weed, also called touch-me-not or 
snap weed from the sudden bursting of the pods 
when touched. 


The two pods at the left have "gone off" with a "bang " (snap) and most of the seeds were thrown quite a distance. The pod at the right 

is like a cannon all "loaded " and ready to be " fired." Just touch the tip, at left. 

view of their pretty white bodies and their grace- If you have had no balsam, sow some seeds this 
fully arching necks. It is a dainty hunting, spring. None of the old-fashioned flowers is 
There is no bloodshed. There is no pain. You prettier. You will enjoy the plants. 

iFor description and illustrations of barnacles, see "The Goose Barnacle," page 1132 of " Nature and Science " 

for October, 1906. 






do snakes have ears? 

DeKalb, III. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Will you please tell me whether 
snakes h-ave ears or not? If they have not, why do the 
little garter-snakes run or crawl away so quickly? I enjoy 
the Nature and Science department very much. 
Yours truly, 

Catherine Smith. 

Snakes have no external ears, but inside the 
head the ear bones are very crude. Snakes 
"hear," however, by feeling vibration of sound 
on their delicate scaly covering, and searching 
for sound vibrations by protruding the wonder- 
fully sensitive tongue which is filled with thou- 
sands of microscopic nerves. Their sight is very 
keen in distinguishing moving objects. — Ray- 
mond L. Ditmars. 

suggestions for a bird-house 

Bridgeport, Conn. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Early last spring, I made a bird- 
box, hoping that the bluebirds would nest in it. I put it 
up in one of the trees in our yard, but we had so much 
trouble with the English sparrows that I fixed up a trap 
for them. I nailed a piece of shingle on the box under the 
door so that it would turn easily ; I then fastened a weight 
on one end of it ; then I tied a string to the same end and 
carried it to our verandah, so that if the English sparrows 
should go in I could drop the string, thereby letting the 
weight fall which is fastened to the shingle, which lets 
that end- down and the other end up over the hole, thus 
catching the sparrow. However, the sparrows seemed to 

the bird-house in the tree. 

Note the arrangement of the moving shingle. 

be afraid of it and would not go near it. When the blue- 
birds came, they did n't mind it a bit, and began to nest 
right away. 

Your sincere reader, 

Brewster S. Beach (age 13). 
From a later letter : " The bluebirds are in it and have 
young. I send the picture." 

Bird-houses are easily made. The simplest is 
a box from the store, a hole cut in the side, and 
waterproof paper or oilcloth tacked on the top. 

Please tell of your experiences with bird- 


Johnson City, Tenn. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am sending you a freak which I 
have discovered on our red rambler rose-bush. Two roses 

The lower fluffy part of each is the main rose. The ' 
rose" is in bud above, just ready to open. 


with buds growing out of them. Have you ever seen such 

a thing? And what part of the rose has produced the bud? 

Yours truly, 

Gertrude Williams. 

This kind of structure occurs occasionally in 
plants, especially in the rose family. Pears 
sometimes show a leafy shoot issuing from the 
middle of the larger end, which is the same 
thing, and the little orange inside the navel or- 
ange is another imperfect form of the same. Its 
cause is known in part. All the rose petals, sta- 
mens, and pistils, arise either in whorls or spir- 
ally on a bud of vegetative point — usually this 
point then stops growing and makes nothing 
more. Sometimes, however, through causes un- 
known, it takes a fresh start and builds new 
whorls or spirals of leaves, etc., lengthening out 
as it does so. This is evidently the case in the 
specimens sent. There is therefore no mystery 
about how the structure is built, but only why 
the bud does at times so build it. — Professor W. 
F. Ganong. 


Lake Forest, III. 
Dear St. Nicholas : We go up in the mountains of 
Michigan in the summer time and there in Pine River we 
catch very many turtles. When we catch them or, rather, 
when we try, they usually dive off the log where they were 
before and swim straight down. We almost always wait 
there for them to come up to the surface to breathe, and 
they almost always do. 

I want to know whether they have to come up to the 
surface of the -water to breathe or can they stay under as 
long as they like? 



We brought twelve turtles home and we have them in a 
very large pan on our back porch. They have a rock to 
sun themselves upon, and are in a place where the sun gets 
at them. We have always fed them bits of raw meat, 
which they eat very readily, and also flies and bugs. Do 
they get this in their natural home? If not, what do they get? 

We put some tiny rock bass in with our turtles once and 
they lived for about two days and then the next morning 
we found them dead, with our turtles eating and fighting 
over them. We never have known whether the rock bass 
died and then the turtles ate them, or whether the turtles 
killed them themselves and then ate them. Can you tell 
what happened? 

We intend to put our turtles in a near-by pond, which is 
very large, in winter, so they can hibernate. There are 
some turtles in there already. Ours are "painted" turtles. 
Yours sincerely, 

Grace Tuttle. 

Turtles can remain under water for several 
hours without a necessity of coming to the sur- 
face, as they fill the lungs before going down, 
taking enough air to aerate the blood for some 
time. In winter, many turtles remain under wa- 
ter the entire season, the bodily function being 
in a partially suspended state. 

Wild turtles feed upon insects, worms, tad- 
poles, frogs, and fishes. 

In an aquarium turtles will kill and eat fish. — 
Raymond L. Ditmars. 

how bees swarm 

Comstock, Nebraska. 
Dear St. Nicholas : When the weather gets warm and 
the beehives are full of bees they begin to get ready to 
swarm. They raise a dozen or more young queens, but 
the old one generally goes with the first swarm. They 
come out in the air, fly around, and then settle. When 
they begin to settle a few bees light and the others keep 
piling on them and hanging to one another till they all get 
settled. Sometimes there is no more than a quart of bees 

than half an hour, and sometimes they hang all day before 
they go away. When we go to get them we spread a sheet 
down in front of the hive and shake the bees on it and they 
run in. If they light on a tree we sometimes cut the branch 
off and carry it to the hive. They quite often settle on a 
tree, and we have had them light on the fence or on the 
ground. The picture is of a swarm that settled on a 
sulky-plow seat. My little sister is finishing her breakfast 
beside them. Ailsa B. Amos (age 12). 

Experiences with honey-bees are very inter- 
esting. "Nature and Science" desires to receive 
letters and photographs (especially of unique sit- 
uations) from all young folks who have assisted 
in the care of honey-bees. 



Dear St. Nicholas: My father is growing ornamental 
gourds for the first time, and I would be pleased if you 

A swarm of bees on the seat of a sulky plow. 

The swarm is the dark mass in front of the child. 

in a swarm, and we have had them when they would fill a 
big pail. Sometimes they will not stay in the cluster more 

a variety of ornamental gourds. 

would tell me if there is a way of drying them so that they 
will keep ; also if it is possible to paint or etch on them 
and when to do so; viz., before or after the drying. At 
what time of the year should the gourds be cut ? 

Probably an article dealing with the treatment of orna- 
mental gourds would be of interest to many of your 
readers, as it would to 

Yours very sincerely, 

Bertha E. Cooke. 

Ornamental gourds are as easily raised as are 
cucumbers, squashes, and watermelons, which 
belong to the same family (Cncurbitaccac). 

Do not pick the gourds till the vines are dried. 
Then put the gourds on a table in a sunny win- 
dow until they are thoroughly dry. Nature's dec- 
orations of the beautiful colors and interesting 
markings on some species are better than any- 
thing you can add in paint. But, if you do wish 
to paint on the plain white ones, do so after they 
are dry. 

My best advice in the matter is to get a large 
variety of seeds and try growing them. Actual 
experience is worth more than pages of instruc- 


MAY, I907. THEN 16.) 


FEB., 1908.) 

This is our fifth "Album" exhibit of Honor Mem- 
bers — that is, League members who have won 
gold badges in the League competitions. Some 
of the pictures are of old members, who won 
their badges a good while ago, and are grown up, 
now, and perhaps contributing to other maga- 
zines. It is interesting to look at these faces, full 
of promise and aglow with the first dawn of suc- 
cess. To the reader who may happen to know 
the present achievements of the older members, 
the pictures of that earlier time are doubly inter- 
esting, and such increase of interest will attach 
to many of our Honor-Member pictures as the 
years go by, for it is from that multiplying army 
that a goodly number of the writers and illus- 
trators of the future must be drawn. We have 
had a hundred League competitions, and when a 
hundred more have slipped away some of us will 
look back over these Album pages and be sur- 





prised, maybe, at the number of names and faces 
that in that brief time have become familiar to 
the general reader. 

So we are making the record of them here and 
now, for the fresh interest of to-day, the retro- 
spective interest of the days ahead, and for the 
encouragement of those who are striving with 
infinite pains and perseverance to achieve worthy 
results and their legitimate reward. 

We shall continue the League Album for the 
present, and we hope every Gold Badge Winner 
will send a photograph, taken as nearly as possi- 
ble at the time of the winning. We want the 
photographs of all such members, whether new 
or old. And, once more, remember it is not nec- 
essary to win a cash prize to become an Honor 
Member, that an Honor Member is the winner 
of a gold badge. 

As heretofore, we publish a few examples of 



the work for which awards were made, and under 
each picture we give the date when each "Honor- 
Member" prize was granted. 


{Cash Prize) 
Merrily crackle the blazing logs, 

Bidding us all be gay ; 
While out in the wild December night, 
Under the sky so gray, 

It seems that we hear the Storm King cry, 
While the north winds shrilly blow, 


1906. THEN 13.) 

SEPT., 1903. THEN 16.) 

"Marshall, ye clouds, in the frozen north, 
And cover the earth with snow!" 

And bound are the streams in their strong ice-chains, 

While the leafless forest sways ; 
But nearer we draw to the cheerful hearth — 

How I love these fireside days! 

For here we determine, in hopeful youth, 

The triumphs of life to win ; 
And here by the fire I often dream 

That my ship Success comes in. 

I dream that I gather the sweet wild rose 

That blooms by the pasture bars ; 
And I wander once more in the sweet June eve, 

Under the silver stars. 

NOV., 1906. THEN 8.) 



The charred log breaks, and a ruddy light 

Flickers and then is dead ; 
And the snow falls silently, soft and white, 

While the happy good nights are said. 



(Gold Badge) 
I I.IKE to live in nature's glory. I love the sunny silence 
of my lane, where everything grows with all its might. 
Why do people call weeds common? They are frequent 
but very wonderful, and I have spentmy happiest summer 
days among them. First I find yellow dandelions peeping 
from the green grass. Because they are the first to appear 
they are the dearest, for in winter only the faithful fir- 
trees bear us company. The dandelions have long narrow 




JUNE, 1904. THEN 15.) 



FEB., 1908.) 



1906. THEN 15.) 

AUG., 1907. THEN 13.) 

petals, and French boys call them dent de lion. They soon 
pass into little balls of down which scatter in the breeze. 
They sow early ; therefore they are thrifty. Next arrive a 
multitude of buttercups. They also have a French name, 
houton d'or. They are happy and nod to each other in the 
wind. Soon I gather white and buff daisies. Sometimes 
I make a nosegay of several hundreds. I hunt for clover, 
not with my eyes, but with my nose and also with my ears ; 
for where I find fragrant clover, there hums the big bee, 
looking for a honey breakfast, and never disappointed. 
The silver and gold tansy grow abundantly. I love the 
strong smell of tansy, because it means midsummer, when 
everything splendid is in sight. Burdock has a cool shady 
leaf, a pretty pink blossom, and little burs which I use to 
make baskets for amusement. There are many other 
weeds in my lane. They are my intimate friends. 






Now once again the world 's in tune 
With song, and scent, and sun of June. 

With this month comes the close of school once more, and 
presently we shall be planning all sorts of pleasant things 
to do during the long summer days. Some of us will be in 
the mountains ; some of us will go to the sea-shore; some 
of us will stay at our homes in the country, and others of 
us will have to remain in town for the most part ; but all of 
us will be planning days under the sky and in the shade 
and by cool waters. Sometimes we do not care to do much 
on days like these but just "laze" around and pretend to 
read and perhaps fish a little or " go swimming," when the 
water is n't too cold. But there will be other days when 
we are hungry and suffering for " something to do. " Those 
are League days. We are going to have competitions suita- 
ble to the summer season, — rather lazy subjects — that 

one may make pictures and stories about without the trou- 
ble of looking up facts on a hot day. As to the poets, 
well they are always a sort of privileged dreamy class, and 
have a "license" and never have to "get right down and 
dig" anyway, except for good words and rhymes, and some 
of them don't dig quite as much as they should, for those. 
Our "Famous Home" Competition was so popular, 
and so many contributions came that told of such familiar 
homes as those of Washington, and Lincoln, and Longfel- 
low, and a few others, and all so well written, that we were 
obliged to rule them out of the competitions and recognize 
them only on Roll of Honor No. I, which, as in the case of 
the " Flower " Competition of last month, is of " record " 
length. Those whose names are on that roll may comfort 
themselves with the thought that they have the very highest 
encouragement to try again. 



{Gold Badge) 

I dreamt that the green leaves were 
And thrushes and wrens were awake, 
That May-flow'rs were bright in the 
A-blowing, and all for my sake. 
The fruit-trees were smiling around me, 

All dainty in scarlet and cream — 
'T was home — and I loved it — I loved 
I woke — and, alas! 't was a dream. 

I dreamt that I stood on the hilltop; 

Below me the woodlands were green, 
The grasses grew long by the pathway, 

All bright with the raindrops' sheen. 
A wind through the wet woods came 

Sweet-scented with lilac and May, — 
I awoke, far away o'er the ocean, 

And dawn in the heavens stood gray. 



My dreams drifted into a haven, 

Across a bright beautiful sea; 
The sun on the cliffs of my homeland, 

Was setting in glory for me. 
But a shadow came down from the mountain, 

And fell on my light cedar bark, 
And, lo! I awoke full of sorrow 

And wept bitter tears in the dark. 



In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered 

Verse. Gold badge, Emmeline Bradshaw (age ib), 
Landsdown House, Merrow, Guilford, Surrey, Eng. 

Silver badges, Rosalea M. McCready (age 14), Estero, 
Fla. ; Manuel Gichner (age 11), 1516 Madison Ave., 
Baltimore, Md., and Louisa E. Keasbey (age 10), care of 
Dr. Lindley M. Keasbey, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. 

Prose. Gold badges, Alice Needham Very (age 13), 
Westwood, Mass. ; Elizabeth R. Hirsh (age 15), 2215 
Green St., Phila., Pa., and Bruce T. Simonds (age 12), 
339 Norman St., Bridgeport, Conn. 

Silver badges, Winifred Bluck (age 16), St. Gabriel's 
School, Peekskill, N. Y. ; Frances Elizabeth Huston (age 
12), 506 Pipestone St., Benton Harbor, Mich., and Louise 
K. Paine (age 13), Friends' Academy, Locust Valley, L. I. 

Drawing. Gold badges, John J. Draffan (age 17), 1320 
S. 13th St., Phila., Pa., and Harrison McCreary (age 13), 
15 Warrenton Ave., Hartford, Conn. 

Silver badges, Beryl H. Margetson (age 9), The Manor 
House, Blewbury, W. Didcot, Berkshire, Eng. ; Irene 
Fuller (age 16), 126 26th St., Milwaukee, Wis., and Cor- 
rie E. Blake (age 13), 46 Thurloe Sq., London, S. W., Eng. 

Photography. Gold badge, Emilie 0. Wagner (age 13), 
Westchester, Pa., Route I. 

Silver badges, Zalmon G. Simmons, 3d, 461 Prairie 
Ave., Kenosha, Wis. ; Robert L.Moore (age 12), Hazel- 
brook Farm, Wayland, Mass., and Frances Lucile 'Hill 
(age 14), 14 Ross Co. Block, Chillicothe, O. 

Wild Creature Photography. First prize, "Antelope," 
by Myron Bone (age 15), 17 Beanard St., Spokane, Wash. 
Second prize, "Young Elk," by Leonard A.Fletcher 
(age 12), Hoh, Wash. Third prize, "Buffalo," by E. T. 
Lanelburg (age 16), 31 14 Half Carr St., Omaha, Neb. 
Fourth prize, " Herons' Nests," by Robert Falge^age 15), 
Manitowoc, Wis. 

Puzzle-Making. Gold badges, Robert S. Cox (age 17), 
Box 256, Terre Haute, Ind., and Frances Luthin (age 13), 
13 Burrell St., Roxbury, Mass. 

Silver badges, Katherine Tallmadge (age 14), 77 Jeffer- 
son Ave., Columbus, Ohio, and MacKay Sturges (age 12), 
Princeton, N. J. 

Puzzle Answers. Gold badges, Margaret H. Smith 
(age 15), Tomah, Wis., and D. W. Hand, Jr. (age 10), 
The Presidio, San Francisco, Cal. 

Silver badges, Sydney L. Wright, Jr. (age 11), Logan, 
Phila., Pa. ; Francis G. Ahlers (age 10), 84 Linden St., 
Wellesley, Mass., and Grace Lowenhaupt (age 12), 
Roselle, N. J. 



{Gold Badge) 

Several years ago, when we lived in Virginia, my mother 
took me for a drive to visit Woodlawn, the home of Nelly 
Custis. It was the middle of November, but gay flashes 
of color were still seen among the rich browns of the 
foliage that lined the long pleasant road. 

At last, upon emerging from a woods through which we 
had been driving for some time, we saw the house crown- 
ing the summit of a high hill, up which the road wound 

It is a large brick mansion built in 1805 by Major Lewis 
and his wife, Nelly Custis, on the estate which was left 
them by Nelly's step-grandfather, Washington, and was 
named for Major Lewis's childhood home. 

It seemed strange that those high ceilings had once 
echoed the sound of Nelly Custis's merry laugh, that the 
great rooms had once resounded with the mirth and music 
of one of the gay parties which she often gave there, and 








that Nelly Custis might have stood conversing with La- 
fayette or some other famous personages of those times on 
the very spot where we stood. 

Since those happy times the house had fallen into decay, 
but since the Kesters, the family of the well-known play- 
wright, have bought the place, it has been restored in its 


;e 16. (third prize, 

original form. Our hostess showed us some beautiful 
marbles which had been brought over from Italy by Major 
Lewis and which had been found buried in a heap of rub- 
bish when they bought the place. 

We also visited the stables and were introduced to Julia 
Marlowe's little dog which had crossed the ocean twenty- 
five times, and to a donkey which I was invited to ride. 

But how can I describe the view which we had from the 
front piazza! All the country around spread at our feet, 
and over beyond the wilderness of trees, the last rays of 
the setting sun gleamed on the blue waters of the majestic 
Potomac, stretching away before us for twenty-five miles. 

And now it was time to go home, so we said good-by 
to our friends and to beautiful old Woodlawn, and drove 
home through the gathering twilight. 



(Silver Badge) 

Hard upon the war-path his enemy pursuing, 
In his heart the picture of the maid he was awooing; 
From the Indian warrior came his battle-cry, 
Fighting for his wigwam, ready there to die. 

The mother bird works hard all day gathering up the grain, 
Then homeward to her nest she flies her babies to maintain ; 
Four hungry little birdies open wide their yawning beaks, 
Their mother feeds them willingly 'til days creep into weeks. 

In the tangled jungle the lion awaits his prey, 
Waits beside a little path some creature to waylay; 
Now he drags it to his den through the forest's heat, 
So his mate and little cubs shall not want for meat. 

Along a field clad in pure white a little rabbit ran, 
Behind her came a hungry fox- — to kill her was his plan ; 
On through a leafless thicket to her burrow in the ground, 
And now she is in shelter, after one last'desperate bound. 

One comes from his office to his mansion on the street, 
And one comes from the forest to a humble hut so neat, 
One comes from the harrow to his cottage midst the loam, 
Each comes from his labor, and each goes to his home. 

Home is home to all things, wherever it may be ; 
In the wigwam, in the house, theden, or in the tree, 
Or be it in the burrow, deep within the ground, 
'T is the same to every creature the whole great world 



( Gold Badge) 

The streets of Fairfield, Connecticut, are all pleasant, but 
the wide avenue arched with elms, that passes the old Green, 






is the most beautiful of them all, in my opinion. Perhaps 
this beauty is enhanced by the fine residences which line 
it on either side. One of these homes is the old mansion 
called the " House with Sixty Closets." 

Probably many members of the St. Nicholas League 
have read Mr. Child's charming allegory " The House 
with Sixty Closets," which gives a very good description of 
the old house. The "Judge" in that story is Judge 
Roger Sherman, who built the house. Mr. Child, the 
author of the book, now resides in this interesting old 

The house was built in 1816 and as it was to be one of the 
finest houses in that part of the country, Mrs. Sherman 
bought furniture to match. The chairs, tables, cabinets, 
and bedsteads were of mahogany. Mrs. Sherman's Grecian 
sofa with cushions was bought for one hundred and twenty- 
five dollars, but that was nothing to her long gilt-framed 

mirror for which she paid a hundred and fifty-five dollars, 
in gold. As there was a fireplace in every large room, 
there must have been a great number of andirons. 

The parlor carpet was made to order in England. It is 
said that when it arrived it was found to be seven feet 
longer than the rooms for which it was intended, so exten- 
sions were built at the end of each parlor, to fit the carpet! 
Whether this story is true or not, the wings are there to 
this day. 

Mrs. Sherman had the reputation of being very liberal 
and she certainly was as to the number of closets she had in 
the house, for at one time there were no less than sixty. 
This fact gave it the name of the "House with Sixty 
Closets." Each closet held some particular article, such 
as herbs, linen, calico, or the private papers of the Judge. 
Mrs. Sherman, however, could tell in which closet the 
desired article could be found, from the wine-closet in the 
cellar to the ham-closet in the attic. She must have had 
a remarkable memory. 

When the Shermans died the Congregational Church 
received the property. It still stands on the main street, 
and although the number of closets has dwindled, it is 
still known as " The House with Sixty Closets." 


(Illustrated Poem) 



{Silver Badge) 

When the twilight shadows fall 

O'er the land and sea, 

And the lonely hoot-owl's call 

Comes across to me, 

Then the present seems to fade, 

And my fancies roam 

Back again unto the shade 

Of my childhood home. 

Once again I seem to see 

Each familiar face, 

Every rock and stump and tree 

Of that hallowed place; 

Once again I seem to know 

What it is to roam 

Through the orchard, to and fro, 

At my childhood home. 




Once again I seem to feel 

Blithe and glad and free, 

When at dusk these fancies steal 

Softly over me. 

When the day's bright sunlight flees 

Then my fancies roam, 

Bringing back the memories 

Of my childhood home. 


{Silver Badge) 
By the laughing, sparkling rill, 
Through the forest old and hoary, 
Past the old, moss-covered mill, 
Favorite theme in song and story, 

Through the little open glen, 
"Where the chipmunk's den is seen ; 
Where, far from the haunts of men, 
Rabbits lose their timid mien, 

Up the narrow mountain path, 
Where the boulders, wayward thrown, 

St. Nic hoi a$ Lea? ue 13QS 

V - 





Look as if a giant's wrath 

By such labors had been shown, 

And across the furrowed land, 
Where, anear our cottage door, 
One can see the golden sand 
Of the broad Potomac shore, 

Often, often have I wandered, 
Marveling how, with lavish hand, 
Nature all her charms had squandered 
On thy shores, Oh Maryland. 




{Gold Badge) 

''What shall it be to-day?" asked father, as we sat at 
breakfast in the charming Frankfurt "pension." Mother 
considered. Then, — "Suppose we visit the Goethe 
House." As this was received with shouts of acclamation, 
preparations were soon under way, and in less time than it 
takes to tell, our carriages were rolling down the Bocken- 
heimer Landstrasse on the way to the Goethe- House. 

The house itself, a typical eighteenth century dwelling, 
built around a courtyard, stands in one of the older sec- 
tions of Frankfurt; and, from the outside, presents an as- 
pect of stateliness and gloom. Even upon entering, it has 
a somewhat formal air, effected, no doubt, in a large 
measure by the scrupulous care bestowed upon it. We 
were led up the broad staircase,vand, stopping on the way 
to admire the handsome old chests and curious clocks, 
through the rooms of Goethe's family. Especially inter- 
esting is his father's library with its rows and rows of old 
books. In fancy, I saw the boy Goethe poring over the 
dusty volumes, with occasional stealthy glances to the 
little window high up in the wall, through which he could 
see his sweetheart's house. 

Then, as though all this were merest preliminary, we 
were led to Goethe's 'own room. With its huge, old-fash- 
ioned bed and high-set windows it is indeed quaint. 
Goethe died in Weimar, so this room belongs to him espe- 
cially as a boy. It is the silhouettes and crayon-sketches of 
the boy Goethe that are hung upon the wall ; and here are 
his tin soldiers and the toy-theater wherewith he acted out 
the fancies of his childhood. When we had gazed upon 
this with respect profound enough to impress even the 
voluble German guide, we wereled to theGoethe Museum in 
the rear of the house. Here are collected many things of 
interest in connection with the great poet; medals, mar- 
bles, and manuscripts are guarded with jealous care. As 
in duty bound, I looked at all these, but my thoughts were 
still in the high-ceilinged, old-fashioned house, which, in 







spite of the "desecrations " of tourists, retains much of its 
"homey" air. 

In outward form, the Museum would doubtless be con- 
sidered the more beautiful, and, as it contains many more 
relics of the great poet, possibly the more interesting. 
But to me, the Museum seemed scientifically cold, every- 
thing was labeled and classified. This was a tribute to the 
poet Goethe, but there the man had moved and lived. 



{Honor Member) 

Call not to me, ye winds! 
Nor beckon, ye naked trees, 
Through the Golden Gate of sunset 
Where the dying daylight flees! 
For though another hopeless night across 

the sky doth creep, 
The women-folk must stay at home, and 

Waft not to me, ye winds, 
Through the deep twilight gloom, 
The sound of the cavalry charge 
And the cannon's awful boom. 
For when our men in thousands sink in 

eternal sleep, 
The women-folk must stay at home, and 

Speak not to me, ye winds, 
Nor whisper your news of sorrow ! 
Why should I learn of the grief 
That waits, perchance, to-morrow? 
Nor hasten thou, oh, tardy night, 
Thy ripening hours to reap ; 
For slumber brings oblivion 
To those at home that weep. 



(Honor Member) 

The long, long road lies straight before 
Like a dusty ribbon upon the shore 

Till it slippeth down in the valley far, 
And leadeth on to the open door 

Where home-lights are. 

The light is low in the paling west, 

And the bright bird tosses his purple crest, 

No more on wearying wing to roam ; 
He sees afar his welcome nest; 

He 's going home! 

There comes a whiff through the deep'ning dark 
Of faint wild rose and of balsam bark, 

And so brightly doth the firelight glow, 
That, in the dusk, I can almost mark 

The smiles I know! 

Oh, bonnie land of joys to be! 
Oh, misty heav'n of reverie ! 

Dear faces waiting in the gloam, 
Pray keep a welcome yet for me ; 

I 'm cominar home! 





(Silver Badge ) 

The home of Mr. John Stauffer is not a famous one save 
around our countryside, but here it is famous for the 
spirit of generous hospitality that reigns in it. There is 
nothing remarkable about it; the well-kept lawns and gar- 
dens and the big orchard are like those of other large coun- 
try residences ; but so many farmers' nice orchards are not 
open to girls and boys, and Mr. Stauffer's is! 

What could be more delightful than a brisk ride behind 
his brown ponies through the snow to his beautiful home, 





where, in the ruddy firelight, one popped corn and ate 
apples and nuts to one's heart's content? 

I know of nothing, unless it would be a picnic in 
summer, when Mr. Stauffer gathers all little lads and 
lassies from far and near, at his place, where they play in 
the long grass and gather flowers, and wade in the silvery 
little brook, and climb trees. 

And such nutting there in the fall! shaking trees, with 
the blue sky above you and the red and golden leaves 
about you, with the milk-weed down sifting through the 
warm sunlit air. 

Children are always welcome at good John Stauffer's 
house, and he loves nothing better than to befriend them. 

Grown people, also, all love him for his kindness. If 
ever a neighbor is ill and in want, John Stauffer is among 
the first to proffer aid. 

Thus, by his kindliness and hospitality he has won the 
hearts of all who know him and made his home famous. 



(Honor Mem be?-) 

I found a grotto in a nest of hills, 

Half hidden by down-drooping branch and vine, 
Where, year by year, the mountain torrent drills 

Deeper its path between the slopes of pine. 

A fairy cave it was, scarce large enough 
To let a baby breeze turn twice within ; 

And all its over-arching roof was rough 

With bright rose-jewels, crystal-clear, and thin. 

From which a sweet and dewy dampness dripped 
With liquid note; in bubbling ripples brimmed 

The silver-shining pool, and hidden, slipped 

Through mossy channels, fern- and flower-trimmed. 

And there, a half-span from the water's edge 

A violet nodded, and, with coyest grace, 
Bent lightly over from her crannied ledge 

To see, reflected, her own perfect face. 

The clustering grasses, nestled at her feet 
In shy attendance, waited her command; 

And, roguish, raised their slender forms to greet 
Her green leaves, set like guards on either hand. 

Thus wrapped in th' incense of her honeyed breath, 
And lulled by murmurs from the pearly spring, 

The place her dwelling was for life and death — 
A fitting casket for so fair a thing. 



(Silver Badge ) 

All alone, in the midst of the blue Atlantic, lies a group 
of coral islands known as the Bermudas. There, once 
upon a time, the poet, Thomas Moore, found a dwelling- 
place. During his stay he must have enjoyed his beau- 
tiful surroundings. 

The road that passes the house wherein he spent one 
short year is like a white ribbon winding along the shore 
of a sound that is almost surrounded by hills. Below the 
road the salt spray dashes up on the rocks ; on the hillside 
above it is a forest of cedars overgrown with evergreens. 
" Walsingham " is the name of the house and of the 
grounds surrounding it. The house is an old-fashioned 
stone structure of native coral, tinged by age to a soft ■ 
yellow. It overlooks the waters of the sound ; and the 
gentle lapping of the tide against the shore makes low, 
monotonous music. The entire place is an ideal home 
for a poet, so still and calm and solemn. 

Hidden by towering cedars is a pond of bright blue 
water of amazing depth and clearness. A rough, winding 
path behind the house leads to a sunny dell. In this dell 
is a decayed calabash tree, centuries old ; and hidden away 
by evergreens are many odd nooks and crannies. Near 
by is another tiny pond with beautiful fish gliding to and 
fro. Among them are the red squirrel fish and the angel 








fish. The latter, flashing across the sunlit waters, form a 
study in blue and gold. 

A narrow and rugged path terminates at the entrance to 
a cave. The interior is dark and somber until it is lighted 
by a blazing palm branch. A few steep steps lead down 
into the mouth of the cave. Within, is a deep, deep lake 
of still green water, so transparent that the sandy bottom 
is distinctly visible. Around the edge of this underground 
pool runs a little ledge of r'ock just wide enough for a 

With its many and varied attractions " Walsingham " 
deserved to be, if only for a short time, the habitation of a 
poet whose poetry suggests that he lived in an earthly 



The home of the stars is in heaven, 

They live there all the year. 
They shine all the night 'til the morning 

And then they disappear. 

They shine with the moon in the night-time 
So sweet and lovely and bright ; 

The sun is a golden color, 

But the stars are most of them white. 



{Honor Member) 
North or south, 
Or east or west, 
In lowland valley, 
On mountain crest, 

Where zephyrs murmur, 
And roses blow, 
Where sleigh bells jingle 
'Mid falling snow, 
Vol. XXXV. -96. 

On the world's highway 
Or quiet spot, 
In lordly palace 
Or humble cot, 

Where 'er we linger 
O'er land or foam, 
Wherever love is, 
Oh, there is home. 



By the fire we 're gathered, 
Listening to the rain, 

Falling with a pattering noise, 
On the window-pane. 

Brother Tom is roasting 
The nuts he found to-day, 

And I am telling stories 
To little sister Mae. 

Mother 's singing lullabies 

To little brother Fred, 
And when at last he 's fast asleep, 

She '11 take him up to bed. 

We 're a happy family 
As any one may see, 

And if you don't believe it, 
Just drop in after tea. 


All Honor Members 
are requested to send 
their photographs for 
use in the League 








{Silver Badge) 

Probably most of the stories of "Famous Homes" will 
be about the homes of famous people who are now dead ; 
but my story is of the home of one who is probably better 
known and more popular than any other living man. He 
is Samuel L. Clemens, commonly known as " Mark 

It was with much anticipated pleasure that I went to his 
city home to dinner, one evening. His house, a large one 
of stone, is on lower Fifth Avenue, down near Washington 

When we arrived we entered a long hall. After remov- 
ing our wraps we went into a long drawing-room from 
which extended another drawing-room and beyond that 
were some folding doors, closed. All around were book- 
cases filled with choice books and on the walls were hung 
many beautiful pictures among which were two oil paint- 
ings of his daughters. 

Soon our host joined us and I looked with great awe 
upon " Mark Twain," of whom I had heard so much. He 
was a dear old man with snow white hair and twinkling 
gray eyes. He was very entertaining and I soon forgot all 
else listening to him talk. While we were waiting for 
dinner to be served " Mark Twain's" secretary played on 
the orchestrelle. The music was. very beautiful. 

A little later dinner was announced and " Mark Twain " 
led me out to the table on his arm. During the meal he 
would get up and walk around. This is a queer habit of 
his and he rarely sits still through a whole meal. Return- 
ing to the table one time he brought with him a volume of 
Kipling's' poems and read aloud to us from them. It was 
very interesting and I enjoyed it greatly. 

After dinner we went up-stairs to the billiard-room. It 
was quite a large room lined with shelves filled with 
books, in the center was a large billiard-table, a present to 
Mr. Clemens from Mr. H. H. Rogers. 
1 It was very interesting watching Mr. Clemens play, for 
he is considered an expert at the game. 

Soon after the carriage was announced and I went away 
after having probably one of the pleasantest and most in- 
teresting experiences of my life. 

(Suggested by Jules Breton's " Shepherd's Star" 


{Honor Member) 

Oh, weary woman on thy barefoot way, 

Hastening homeward to thy longed-for rest, 
Turn, set thy burden down, a moment stay, 

See how the light still lingers in the west ; 
Still touches tenderly the stubbled wheat ; 

And there is rest in the hushed loneliness, 
Peace in the breeze which blows so cool and sweet. 

All work and noise have sunk to nothingness. 

And now foretelling the swift-coming night, 

There in the changing sky aloft afar, 
A glimmer first and then a silver light, 

Shines palely forth the first faint evening star. 
Then through the dusk pass to thy dwelling rude, 
And clamorous children, hungry for their food. 



On the shores of Puget Sound there once stood a magnifi- 
cent and famous home called Tsu-suc-cub by the Indians, 
and Old-Man-House by the white men. It should not be 
forgotten because it was the palace of the great and good 
Chief Seattle, who lived there with seven less important 
chiefs and their families. 

At the present time the size of the ground-work can only 
be traced by the scattered supporters of the once heavy 

In front, the building was about one thousand feet long, 
and twelve feet high, in the rear it was a little lower. It 
was about sixty feet wide, except at each end where it 
measured fifty feet. To hold up this large structure it 
took seventy-four posts, of which there are but two stand- 
ing. They were the same width, and ten or twelve inches 

The rafters were large cedar logs about sixty-five feet 
long, with a diameter of two feet or more at the larger 
end, and twelve inches at the smaller. 

The roof and outside walls were of cedar boards. 

In " Old-Man-House "there were forty apartments, and 
in each there were several rooms, with one or more fire- 

The principal apartment occupied by Chief Seattle was 
very strong and had a contrivance to put in front of the 
door in case of a sudden attack by hostile tribes. 

On every corner-post was carved the Thunderbird and 
the figure of a naked man with a bow and arrow. The 
latter was supposed to represent the ancestor of the tribe. 

The great age of the building is shown by the great 
banks of broken clam shells that are to be seen all over 
the beach, even as far out as deep water. 

This house of the Siwash Indians of Puget Sound was 
over thirty times the area of the famous houses built by 
the Iroquois, which were from fifty to one hundred feet 
long and about seventeen feet wide. 

Here Seattle lived long; here the celebrated Princess 
Angeline was born. He died in 1866. Near by the 
whites have erected a monument over the grave of this 
truly "noble red man," bearing the inscription : 

Chief of the Suquamps and Allied Tribes 

Died, June 7, 1866 

The Firm Friend of the Whites, and for Him the 
City of Seattle was Named by Its Founders 





No. 1038. Mabel Henderson, President ; Emelia Graninger, Sec- 
retary; Janet Wylie, Treasurer; Anne Noble, Vice-President; five 

No. 1039. "The Sunbeam." LyellSpange; Edward Chapin, Sec- 
retary; 12 members. 

No. 1040. " Three Sixes. " Robert Walker, President ; Russell Ide, 
Secretary; Robert Ide, Vice-President and Treasurer; 3 members. 

No. 1041. Ruth Crane; Lois Holway, Secretary. 

No. 1042. " 1020 League." Xenil Tousley, President; Use M. 
Neymann, Secretary ; Florence Conner, Treasurer; 10 members. 

No. 1043. "St. Nicholas League, Kirkdale Division." Thomas 
. Turner, President and Secretary ; 32 members. 

No. 1044. "The Secret Circles." Blanche Daily, President; 
Edith Smith, Secretary ; seven members. 

No. 1045. Ruth Ridgway, President ; Nicholas Anderson, Vice- 
President ; Louis Butler, Treasurer; Edward Widmayer; eight mem- 

No. 1046. "Pine Grove Club." James Shute, President; Leslie 
Preston, Secretary : six members. 

angle, Elsa Lowe, Phyllis Lowe, Katharine Holway, Dorothy Man- 
ning, Leonard W. Labaree, Kathleen A. Burgess, and Carleton W. 


Dear St. Nicholas : I have just taken you about a year but think I 
could not get along without you. 

My home is in Denver, Colorado, but we are in the South for the 
winter, going from town to town. 

We have been in Florida most of the time. I thought the old Fort 
Marion at St. Augustine was very interesting. In one of the dungeons, 
Osceola, an Indian prisoner, made dents in the wall to climb up to the 
window that was above the door where he would sit hours at a time 
looking into the courtway of the fort. 

Another Indian prisoner whose name was Coacoochee, was put in 
the same room and was said to get so thin that he escaped through a 
cross-barred window that looked so small it would seem impossible for 
a child to get through. 

My grandmother, Mrs. Lucy Marion Blynn, used to write stories 
and poems for St. Nicholas a long time ago. 

Your devoted reader, 

Marian Blynn (age io}^). 

Dear St. Nicholas: Thank you so very much for awarding me a 
cash prize, and for printing my poem at the beginning of the League, 
which is a place of honor to which I have so longed to attain. 

I am going to buy with your prize money something that I can 
always use, by which to remember the first money I ever earned by 
writing. . 

I don't know what I shall do when I am too old to write any more 
for your League, for it is the beautiful subjects you choose that give 
me ideas for my verses. 

Though I can win no more prizes, I shall still write every month 
until I am eighteen and must leave your art school which I have 
worked in for six years. 

Yours gratefully, 
Catharine H. Straker (age 15). 

Dear St. Nicholas League : Four months ago when I sent in my 
last contribution to the League, I determined to send my farewell letter 
at once ; but the thought of leaving the League and all it has meant 
to me, impelled me to postpone my good-by till this month- — the last one 
in which I can ever feel I have a part — when for the last time I can 
look at the Roll of Honor, with the eager anxiety to see if my name 
is there — when I must confess myself as one who has passed out, and 
for whom only the memory is left. 

What the League has meant to me and done for me, time alone can 
fully tell ; but if I achieve anything, the honor will be to the League, 
through which I have learned many lessons — above all, that of per- 
sistence, and which has given me friends whom I could never have 
known except for it. 

In all my relations with the League, I have had but one regret — that 
I could not stay on the verge of eighteen all my life. 

Gladys Marion Adams. 

Other welcome letters have been received from Evart Judson, Edith 
M. Smith, Isabel Owen, Bedros Y. Shekib, Dorothy Howland Chees- 
man, Helene M. L. Grant, Lynda Billings, Kenneth B. Norton, Em- 
elyne Day, Dorothy S. Mann, Agnes Verity, Katharine Thomas, 
Robert V. Beecher, Marjorie Hale, Mildred Seitz, Rose Edith Des 
Anges, Elizabeth Page James, Lyle Saxon, Kate Haven, A. Wechsler, 
Rose Kellogg, Geo. Atkins, Alice Gantt, Dorothy G. King, Howard 
Schumacher, Carolyn A. Perry, Edna Meyle, Lulu Ollerdessen, Velona 
B. Townsend, Amy H. Requa, Frank H. Smith, Edgar Klein, Jr., 
Elsie Porter Trout, Dora Rogers, Ethel Bowman, Dorothy Kerr Floyd, 
Marjorie Rossiter, Alice Ross, Marion Weckesser, Earl C. Wagner, 
Henry Roemer, Marion C. Hill, Lucy A. Cleveland, John Ralph Huf- 

Other League matter will be 



AGE 16. 


The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges 
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings, 
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also cash 
prizes of. five dollars each to gold-badge winners who shall 
again win first place. "Wild Animal and Bird Photo- 
graph " prize-winners winning another prize will not re- 
ceive a second gold badge. 

Competition No. 104 will close June 20 (for foreign 
members June 25). Prize announcements to be made and 
selected contributions to be published in St. Nicholas for 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Title to contain the word "Ambition." 

Prose. Story or article of not more than four hundred 
words. " My Favorite Day Dream." 

Photograph. Any size, interior or exterior, mounted or 
unmounted; no blue prints or negatives. Subject, "Out- 
door Sports." 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. 
Two subjects, "A Picture That Tells a Story," and an 
October Heading or Tail-piece. 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an- 
swer in full, and must be indorsed. 

Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set 
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas. 
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as shown on the 
first page of the "Riddle-box." 

Wild Animal or Bird Photograph. To encourage the 
pursuing of game with a camera instead of a gun. For 
the best photograph of a wild animal or bird taken in its 
natural home: First Prize, five dollars and League gold 
badge. Second Prize, three dollars and League gold badge. 
Third Prize, League goldbadge. Fourth Prize, League 
silver badge. 

Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not, 
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and 
leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member over 
eighteen years old may enter the competitions. 

Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the 
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as 
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be 
convinced beyond doubt that the contribution is not copied, 
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the 
number of words should also be added. These things 
must not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution 
itself— -if a manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, 
on the margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the 
paper only. A contributor may^end but one contribution a 
month— not one of each kind, but one only. 

Address : 

The St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York, 
found on advertising pages, 


The following letters give us the opportunity of reprint- 
ing a notable contribution from one of the early volumes 
of St. Nicholas, and at the same time correcting a mis- 
take made by our correspondent : 

February 4, 1908. 
Dear St. Nicholas : My little daughter (aged 12), who 
is a reader of St. Nicholas, and also is somewhat given 
to writing besides, recently recited within my hearing some 
verses which she said she found in a bound volume of St. 
Nicholas, while in the country last summer, and had mem- 
orized them because she thoughtthem so very good. When 
she added that the verses were written by a child of eleven 
years, I asked her to write them out and give me a copy. 
This copy I now enclose, and upon reading it critically, I 
am not surprised at my daughter's appreciation of them, as 
something extraordinary for "a child of eleven." My 
first impression was, that I should probably be able to find 
the verses in some poetical anthology, as they seemed to 
me to be quite too mature both in thought and rhythmical 
finish for a child. If not so defined, they certainly deserve 
to be included in some future anthology. In the meantime, 
if St. Nicholas has a verification of the authorship in a 
child of eleven, it will interest several " grown ups " to know 
the name of the young poet. 


G. A. W. 

The poem referred to, "Ashes of Roses," was written by 
a girl of thirteen, at that time named Elaine Goodale, who 
has since won a high place in the world of letters, and is 
now well known as an author and the wife of Dr. Charles 
A. Eastman. St. Nicholas had the honor of publishing 
the first poems of the two gifted sisters, Elaine and Dora 
Read Goodale, in December, 1877, and'the poem "Ashes 
of Roses " appeared with several others at that time, ac- 
companied by this editorial note by Mary Mapes Dodge : 

Elaine and Dora Read Goodale, the two sisters some of 
whose poems are here given for the benefit of the readers 
of St. Nicholas, are children of thirteen and ten years of 

Their home, where their infancy and childhood have 
been passed, is on a large and isolated farm lying upon the 
broad slopes of the beautiful Berkshire Hills of western 
Massachusetts and is quaintly called " Sky Farm." 

Here, in a simple country life, divided between bcoks 
and nature, they began almost as soon as they began to 
talk, to express in verse what they saw and felt, rhyme and 
rhythm seeming to come by instinct. Living largely out- 
of-doors, vigorous and healthful in body as in mind, they 
draw pleasure and instruction from all about them. 

One of their chief delights is to wander over the lovely 
hills and meadows adjoining Sky Farm. Peeping into 
mossy dells, where wild flowers love to hide, hunting the 
early arbutus, the queen harebell, or the blue gentian, they 
learn the secrets of nature, and these they pour forth in 
song as simply and as naturally as the birds sing. 

The particular poem, concerning which our correspon- 
dent inquires, was introduced with this comment : 

"Grown people often write in sympathy with children, 
but here is a little poem by a child written in sympathy 
■vyith grown folk." 


Soft on the sunset sky 

Bright daylight closes, 
Leaving, when light doth die, 
Pale hues that mingling lie — 
Ashes of roses. 

When love's warm sun is set, 
Love's brightness closes ; 
Eyes with hot tears are wet, 
In hearts there linger yet 
Ashes of roses. 


If G. A. W. had signed his or her full name and had 
added the address, it would have been possible for us to 
give the foregoing information at the time when the letter 
was received. But, as there was no signature excepting 
the initials and no address, it was impossible to reply by 
post, and a month later we received a second letter, which, 
like the first, was signed with initials only : 

New York, March 5, 1908. 
St. Nicholas: Referring to the verses "Ashes of 
Roses," a copy of which I recently sent with inquiry as to 
the authorship, I have recently chanced upon an answer to 
my inquiry. 

In the program of a concert given by the Rubenstein 
Club, at the Waldorf-Astoria, February 20 ult., the same 
verses appeared in full as one of the songs rendered, the au- 
thorship being ascribed to Rosetta G. Cole. 

Probably the editor of St. Nicholas long ago discov- 
ered and corrected the mistake of crediting these verses to 
"a child of eleven," if this was actually done in the old 
number of St. Nicholas referred to in my former note. 

' G. A. W. 

We thank our correspondent for the kindly intent, 
but he or she will learn from the above that the " cor- 
rection " is itself a mistake. The poem "Ashes of Roses " 
was not written by Rosetta G. Cole — who may perhaps be 
the composer of the musical setting. But the text of the 
poem, beyond a doubt, was the work of Elaine Goodale, at 
or before the age of thirteen. 

The clever young readers of St. Nicholas may be 
trusted to discover any mistakes or oversights in the Maga- 
zine, and we have been taken to task by several friendly 
critics for the statement made in Mr. Tudor Jenks' little 
verse " For Spellers " in the January number. It is here 
reprinted : 

When "ei" and " ie" both spell " ee, " 
How can we tell which it shall be ? 
Here 's a rule you may believe 
That never, never will deceive, 
And all such troubles will relieve — 
A simpler rule you can't conceive. 
It is not made of many pieces, 
To puzzle daughters, sons, and nieces, 
Yet with it all the trouble ceases : 




"After C an E apply; 
After other letters I." 
Thus a general in a siege 
Writes a letter to his liege; 
Or an army holds the field, 
And will never deign to yield. 
While a warrior holds a shield 
Or has strength his arms to wield. 
Two exceptions we must note, 
Which all scholars learn by rote : 

" Leisure " is the first of these, 
For the second we have " seize." 

Now you know the simple rule. 
Learn it quick, and off to school! 

Our young critics tell us that Mr. Jenks is quite mis- 
taken in implying that there are only two exceptions to the 
rule words with "ie" or "ei"; and in reply the author 
says: "'Weird' must be admitted, though the Century 
Dictionary says that the old English spelling was 'wierd' 
and that ' weird ' is expressly said to be the Scotch spelling. " 

Moreover, as the opening line states, the rhyme was in- 
tended to apply only to the diphthongs when they have the 
" ee" sound in pronunciation. Otherwise there would be 
numerous exceptions, with such words, for instance, as 
eight, eider, rein, deign, neigh, neighbor, etc. 

One good-natured young friend makes her criticism in 
rhyme, and we print it with pleasure. 

Dear Mr. Tudor Jenks, we know 
That you can't love deceptions ; 
'T is only weird that you, Seignior, 
Did note but two exceptions* 

M. L. B. 

Margaret Elizabeth Eulenstein (age 9) also shows that 
she has a keen eye, as a reader, for she says : 

On page 281 of the same number of St. Nicholas, in 
the story " Lost in the Storm," I see that "e" comes be- 
fore "i" in the word "weird." 


E , Illinois. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I have written you two letters and 
have been intending to write you a third, for some time. 

I think you will be interested in an experience I had last 

My mother and I spent the summer in a lovely country 
place in the northern part of Michigan. On the day of 
our return to the city we came into the nearest town to wait 
for our boat. The boat was'due to leave at two o'clock in 
the afternoon. When we got to town we found that the 
boat was three hours late, so we went to the hotel to wait. 
When the three hours were up there was no sign of the 
boat. We ate our supper hurriedly for fear the boat would 
come and we would miss it. At eight o'clock we went 
down to the dock. It was filled with people. We waited 
and waited and finally I went to sleep. When I awoke it 
was one o'clock and a boat had just passed which looked 
like the one we were waiting for. Some one went up to 
the grocery store and telephoned to a point where the 
boat was supposed to stop and asked if it was our boat. 
They said it was, so everyone went to the hotel to stay all 
night. We got a room and had been in bed over an 
hour when mother heard a boat whistle. She knew 
it was our boat and that the people at the point were 

We hurried into our clothes and down to the dock. 
People were running from every direction, all in the funniest 
costumes you ever saw. 

We were fortunate enough to get a berth, although not 
a whole state-room. We reached home twelve hours later 
than we were due. 

I am very much interested in "The Gentle Interference 
of Bab" and " Harry's Island." I will be sorry to have 
them ended and hope they will not be for a long time. I am 
a member of the League and hope some day to win a 
prize. I have been in the Honor Roll six times, which is 
very encouraging. 

Your devoted reader, 

Helen Batchelder (age 12). 

H , Mass. 

Dear St. Nicholas : Every month I look forward to your 

coming, and I always like to read "The Letter-Box. " I 

have just been to Atlantic City, N. J., with my mother and 

father; nearly all the children there skate on roller skates. 

I have a pair, and am learning to skate. I live on a high 

hill, and it is a mile around the house I live in, there are 

thirteen hundred people in the house besides myself, but 

no little girls for me to play with. Can you guess where 

I live ? I am nine years old, and go seven miles to Salem 

every day to school. .... , 

' J Your loving reader, 

Ruth Whitney Page. 

Dear St. Nicholas: One year ago my grandmother, who 
lives in Washington, D. C, sent you to me for Xmas 
and I was so very glad to get you again last Xmas. I just 
love you as you give me new things to think about all the 

My father says lots of children would take your maga- 
zine if they knew how good it is. 

Yours truly, 

Virginia Bird. 


My Dear St. Nicholas : My sisters have taken you for 
a year and are going to take you this year. I have several 
brothers and sisters from twenty years old down to six 
years, and every one of us read the St. Nicholas all 
through before it has been in the house three days. 
Your most interested reader, 

Mary K. Damon (age 14). 

T , Florida. 

Dear St. Nicholas : One night my little brother saw the 

moon ; the next night he did n't and he looked all over the 

sky and he said, O mam-ma, where is the hole that the 

moon comes out of ? ,. ,..., , . , 

Your little friend, 

T. Fred Rust. 



F J , N. Y. 

My DEAR St. Nicholas: I am a little army girl nine 
years old. I began to take the St. Nicholas this year. I 
enjoy the other little girls' stories and letters very much. I 
would like to tell you how I spent a Hallowe'en when I had 
the chicken-pox last year. I was wondering how I could 
spend my Hallowe'en when my mother came in and said 
that I had a letter. I opened it and found out it was an in- 
vitation to go to the dining-room on Hallowe'en. My Aunt 
Charlotte received one too and she answered in rhyme. On 
Hallowe'en I was all ready with of dolls. Iliad 
them dressed in some old masks that mother got when she 
was in China and dolls' sheets and pillow cases. 

Mother had aJack-o'-Lantern on top of a cabbage and a 
little toy theater which she and auntie played for me. It 
was Little Red Riding Hood. I was n't sorry I could n't 
be out with the other children after all. 

Charlotte C. Pardee. 

M , Ohio. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I like the St. Nicholas very much 
and when it comes my mother or father will say, "I 
guess I will look at the pictures a minute," but it takes 
them anywhere from a half hour to an hour to look at 
them. I guess they look at some besides the pictures. 
I remain your ever interested reader, 

Alfred Hudson. 

We are in receipt of a letter that is so hearty in spite of 
its brevity, that we regret to be left in ignorance of the 
name of so appreciative a friend of St. Nicholas as this 
correspondent undoubtedly is. This is the letter : 

Dear Sir : I wish to congratulate you on your April num- 
ber of St. Nicholas, it is excellent. 

A Boy's Mother. 

C II , N. Y. 

Dear St. Nicholas : 

We have a horse, some chickens, and two fishes. 
I thought I 'd send you this limerick : 

There was a lady who loved candy, 
And made it when material was handy, 
One day she bought some Quaker rice, 
And the candy was certainly nice. 
Yours truly, 

F. Hahn (io years). 

-, Neb. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I am just nine years old. I am 
sick in bed and last night as I lay awake these thoughts on 
how to be happy came to me : 

Help the sick, 

Help the well, 
Love them more 

Than tongue can tell. 

And you will be 

The happiest of all the bunch, 
In all the days, 

Of all the months. 

Louise Elizabeth Jones. 

While the contributions of these two young friends can 
hardly be called " finished " poetry, yet no one can deny that 
they are original. 

S , Oregon. 

Dear St. Nicholas: We have taken you for four years. 
We like you very much. I think the stories I like best 
are "The Crimson Sweater," "Tom, Dick, and Harriet," 
"Harry's Island," "AbbieAnn," and "The Gentle In- 
terference of Bab." We subscribe to two other maga- 
zines. But I like you best. We have no pets at present, 
but we used to have two cats which we gave away. One 
we called " Baby " and the other " Frisky." 
Your devoted reader, 

Adelaide H. Parker (age 12). 

Dear St. Nicholas : I have never written to you before 
so I thought I would. Last summer I joined the League 
but I have never sent anything in though I hope to soon. 
I have taken the St. Nicholas four years and enjoy every 
number more and more. I always eagerly look forward to 
each new number. "Pinkey Perkins" and "Fritzi" 
used to be my favorites while "Harry's Island " now takes 
their place. When my mother was small she took the St. 
Nicholas and now has twelve large bound books, each one 
holding five St. Nicholases. She told me she enjoyed 
them as much as I do, and even now reads mine. 
Your devoted reader, 

Margaret Howes (age 11). 

The following story is the very creditable work of a little 
girl of eleven : 

Once upon a time, in a big forest, there lived two big, 
shaggy bears. One was brown and one was white, and 
their names were Brownie and Whitey. Whitey had two 
white cubs, and Brownie had two brown ones. 

One day Whitey and Brownie went out together to hunt 
for] their dinner, leaving the cubs at home. They had 
not gone far when they met a calf. They thought that it 
belonged to their enemy, the man who lived at the edge of 
the forest, so they killed and ate it. But the calf did not 
belong to the man. It belonged to an old witch called 
Guma. She was very angry when she saw what the bears 
had done, and started off toward the dens, which were 
side by side. When she reached it, the big bears were 
not there, but the brown cubs, Bruin and Wuzzy-fizz and 
the white cubs, Blanca and Fizzy-wuzz, were playing out- 
side. Blanca and Bruin ran when they saw Guma, but 
she grabbed Fizzy-wuzz, and Wuzzy-fizz and held them up 
by their ears. 

"Now," she cried, " I command you to become toys — 
tiny, toy bears, that cannot move or make a sound! " 
And then she began to make a magic — " Gurrow-ow- 

yoykeyoy-gump-lum-lunnig , " but just then there came 

a drop of rain and Guma ran away, howling, for no witch 
can make a magic in the rain. So the magic was only 
half finished. Wuzzy-fizz and Fizzy-wuzz became tiny, 
toy bears, as the witch had said, but they had joints that 
would move, and mouths that would squeak, because the 
magic was only half finished. 

Mary McConnell. 

Other interesting letters which lack of space prevents our 
printing have been received from Cecile Obencham, Arthur 
K. Westbrook, Jack W. Dalzell, Kate M. Babcock, Nina 
Hansell, Harriet Tyler, Lillian Suydam, Joe E. Kelsey, 
Donald Ketcham, Jean K. Fitzgerald, Theodore Palmer, 
Margaret Reynolds, Elizabeth Buffington, Marion C. 
Smith, Ruth Richardson, David Hoag, Virginia Williams, 
Esther McCabe, Constance H. Smith, Margaret Crocker, 
Mary Bustard, J. L. Reed, Jr., John Wood Logan, Jr., 
Aimee Hutchinson, Virginia Hatch. 


> ■- 



The? Riddlb Poik 


Novel Acrostic. Initials, Washington ; i to 6, Tacoma; 7 to 13, 
Spokane. Cross-words: 1. Wheeling. 2. Arequipa. 3. Syracuse. 
4. Hartford. 5. Illinois. 6. Nebraska. 7. Gunnison. 8. Toulouse. 

9. Oklahoma. 10. New Haven. 
Illustrated Numerical Enigma. 

There is no frigate like a book 

To take us lands away. 
Double Acrostic. Initials, David Kearney; finals, reading up- 
ward, Harriet Emery. Cross-words: 1. Daily. 2. Amber. 3. Valve. 
4. Idiom. 5. Dance. 6. Knout. 7. Eagle. 8. Abaci. 9. Recur. 

10. Never, n. Eliza. 12. Youth. 

Word-square, i. Each. 2. Ache. 3. Char. 4. Hero. 

Anagrams. Third row, Emerson. 1. Ripe, pier. 2. Meat, tame. 3. 
Mine, mien. 4. Reap, pare. 5. Sire, rise. 6. Owns, snow. 7. Lean, 


Double Cross-word Enigma. March, April. 

Transpositions and Beheadings. Decoration Day. 1. Edit, tide, 
die. 2. Reed, deer, ere. 3. Cram, marc, car. 4. Wolf, flow, owl. 5 
Tram, mart, rat. 6. Spar, raps, asp. 7. Trap, part, tar. 8. Dial 
laid, Ida. 9. Noel, Leon, one. 10. Naps, span, nap. 11. Deem 
meed, Dee. 12. Rail, liar, air. 13. Yaws, sway, yaw. 

Charade. Bob-o-link. 

Double Beheadings and Double Curtailings. Memorial Day 

I. Me-men-to. 2. Cr-eat-ed. 3. In-mat-es. 4. Br-own-ie. 5. Er- 
ran-ds. 6. Cr-ink-le. 7. Ex-act-Iy. 8. De-lay-ed. 9. Bo-din-gs. io 
De-ale-rs. 11. Ba-yon-ne. 

Connected Squares: I. 1. Hand. 2. Afar. 3. Name. 4. Drew 

II. 1. Lake. 2. Amid. 3. Kite. 4. Eden. III. 1. Where. 2 
Hades. 3. Edict. 4. Recto. 5. Estop. IV. 1. Here. 2. Ebon. 3. 
Road. 4. Ends. V. 1. Palm. 2. Asia. 3. Lion. 4. Many. 

To our Puzzlers : Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should be ad- 
dressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the March Number were received before March 15th, from "Peter Pan and Tinker Bell"- — " Marcapan" 
— Jennie Lowenhaupt — Mina Louise Winslow — Ben and Joe — James A. Lynd — Helen Marshall — Dorothy P. Chester — Elsie L. Mead — Helen 
Louise Gustin — Priscilla Lankford — Miner and Mother — Margaret E. Slocum — Geo. S. and Helen L. Monroe — Frances Mclver — Edna As- 
truck — Caroline Curtiss Johnson — Tremaine Parsons — Hart Irvine — Lucie D. Taussig — Jo and I — Margaret Titchener — Frieda Rabinowitz — 
Marcia E. Edgerton — Frances Bosanquet — "Queenscourt " — F. G. Stritzinger, 3rd — Elena Ivey — Adeline L. F. Pepper — Elizabeth D. Lord. 

Answers to Puzzles in the March Number were received before March 15th, from C. Crittenden, 9— Betty and Maury, 9 — E. A. LeRoy, 
3rd, 4— M. Abraham, 6— M. K. Culgan, 6— E. Meyle, 9— W. Woodcock, 7— C. Taylor, 2— L. McAlpin, 2— B. F. Cockle, 3— A. S. Reid, 2— M. 
Schreiner, 9— C. Brown, 2— H. T. Barto, 4— P. L. Miller, 4— A. H. Farnsworth, 5— M. G. Bonner, 4— No name, 8— K. Cox, 6 — W. Lloyd, Ir., 8 
— D. Thayer, 9— H. J. Hite, 6— E. B. Van Lennep, 3— C. E. Hutton, 9— E. V. Coverly, 9— "Comstocks," 7— M. P. Rice, 4— E. Black, 8=-A. 
D. Bush, 7. 

So many sent in answers to one puzzle that, for lack of space, these cannot be acknowledged. 


In Hades, the realm of ray first, 
Sat Minos, the king of my second, 

Judging cases ; he must be my whole, 
Or wrongly they would be reckoned. 

E. ADELAIDE HAHN (Honor Member). 


I. triply behead to furnish, and leave to work. 2. 
Triply behead behind in payment, and leave part of the 
head. 3. Triply behead a precious stone, and leave a 
snare. 4. Triply behead unable, and leave a word that ex- 
presses'denial. 5. Triply behead a minister, and leave a 
near relative. 6. Triply behead a gorge, and leave at a 
distance, but within view. 7. Triply behead a vote, and 
leave a goodly quantity. 8. Triply behead rounding out- 
ward, and leave to worry. 9. Triply behead athwart, and 
leave an industrious insect. 10. Triply behead fortified, 
and leave a masculine nickname. 11. Triply behead to 
disconnect links, and leave a dark fluid. 12. Triply behead 
to sell in small quantities, and leave to be slightly ill. 

When the foregoing words have been rightly selected 
and beheaded, the initials of the words remaining will 
spell the name of a state. 

RUNDAI.L lewis (League Member). 


(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 
My primals name a well-known author, and my finals, one 
of his stories. 

Cross-words (of equal length) : 1. Uneven. 2. A 
place of public contest. 3. An afflicted person mentioned 
in the New Testament. 4. Previous. 5. A Christmas 
decoration. 6. Great happiness. 7. The plea that one 
was not in the place in which a crime was committed. 8. 

Garden implements. 9. A confusion of voices. 10. A 
musical drama. 11. League. 12. Very fast. 



,(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

# * * * 

* * * * 

I. Upper Square: i. A handle. 2. The back of 
the neck. 3. A gem. 4. A girdle. 

II. Left-hand Square : 1. A thick plate of stone. 

2. An Italian coin. 3. One of a swarthy race. 4. An 

III. Central Square: i. A son of Adam. 2. Un- 
furnished. 3. Ireland. 4. To allow the use of. 

IV. Right-hand Square: i. Concludes. 2. Trim. 

3. To defy. 4. Part of a shrub. 

V. Lower Square: i. A dale. 2. A slender cord. 
3. An old word meaning " enough." 4. An eft. 






All the words described contain the same number of let- 
ters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, two of the rows of letters, reading downward, will 
spell the name of a famous author. 

Cross-words : i. A great English admiral. 2. Har- 
mony. 3. One fully skilled in anything. 4. A round of 
time. 5. A proverb. 6. Pickle. 7. An old saying. 



In this numerical enigma the words forming it are pic- 
tured instead of described. The answer, consisting of 
thirty-eight letters, will spell the name of a serial story 
printed in St. Nicholas. Designed by 

HELEN K. MC HARG (age 7). 

All the words described contain the same number of 
letters. When rightly guessed and written one below 
another, take the first letter of the first word, the second 
letter of the second word, the first letter of the third, the 
second letter of the fourth, and so on. The zigzag will 
spell the name of a low-growing flower, 
Cross-words: i. A garden flower, 
of shoes. 3. A large stream of water, 
animal. 5. To join 
certain swarthy race. 
To dwell. 



(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 
I. Doubly behead and doubly curtail additions, and leave 
a cavern. 2. Closest at hand, and leave a common verb. 
3. Legally immature, and lea've to scold habitually. 4. A 
woman who inherits, and leave wrath. 5. Not consumed, 
and leave to consume. 6. A tropical palm-tree, and leave 
part of the face. 7. Poltroons, and leave hostility. 8. 
Cautious, and leave three letters which may be transposed 
to spell a word meaning "nourished." 9. One who im- 
bibes, and leave something worn by a child at meals. 10. 

2. Parts of a pair 
4. A fur-bearing 
6. Location. 7. Members of a 
The fruit of a certain tree. 9. 

Architectural projections, and leave iniquity. 11. A thin 
kind of satin, and leave a common metal. 12. To per- 
form, and leave an age. 13. Sea nymphs, and leave three 
letters which may be transposed so as to spell a word 
meaning anger. 

All of the foregoing words contain the same number of 
letters. The initials of the thirteen words before behead- 
ing spell the name of a woman who was killed by Indians 
in 1643 ; the initials of the little words left after beheading 
and curtailing spell the name of a famous orator. 



. . I . . 


7 ■ • • 3 
. C . 4 . 

. . 5 . . 

Cross-words: i. A rank of nobility. 2. To force. 3. 
To confuse. 4. Fidelity. 5. A slip affixed to a package, 
indicating its contents. 6. To attempt. 7. Covering 
worn to protect a person in battle. 8. Black. 9. To 

Upper diamond, from 1 to 8, a king of Judah, son of 
Solomon ; lower diamond (beginning at 5), a martyr whose 
day is celebrated on June nth. 

Helen d. perry (Honor Member). 


(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

I. Upper Square : 1. A metal. 2. To wander. 3. 
Elliptical. 4. A feminine name. II. Adjoining Square : 
1. A feminine name. 2. A large lake. 3. A bean. 4. 

III. Left-hand Square: i. Killed. 2. Vital. 3. 
Wicked. 4. Healthy. IV. Adjoining Square: i. 
Sound in body. 2. A large lake. 3. An Italian coin. 4. 

V. Central Square : 1. Slender. 2. Comfort. 3. 
Poisonous serpents. 4. A snug place. 

VI. Right-hand Square: i. A car. 2. A flower. 
3. Requests. 4. A mixture. VII. Adjoining Square : 

1. A cozy residence. 2. Always. 3. Part of a worm. 4. 
A car. 

VIII. Lower Square: i. A narrow woven fabric. 

2. Absent. 3. The head. 4. Observes carefully. IX. 
Adjoining Square: i. A collection of boxes. 2. A 
feminine name. 3. To strike with the hand. 4. A nar- 
row fillet of cotton. 

katherine tallmadge. 



The Fascination of Changing Colors 

Do you think it will be "trou- 
blesome"? Then you never 
made a greater mistake in your 
life ! 

To use Diamond Dyes is a 
fascinating pleasure. 

You have all the fun with none 
of the anxiety, — for remember 
Diamond Dyes work with scien- 
tific certainty. Once you have 
learned the fascination of chang- 
ing the colors of things — making 
them new by giving them a new 
color — you will never again let 
anybody say that it is a trouble 
to use Diamond Dyes. 

Diamond Dyes cost ten cents 
a package — and you can buy 
them almost everywhere. No 
matter where you live we make 
it easy for you to get Diamond 
Dyes — the exact Diamond Dye 
that you want. 

" I think that almost every woman 
realizes how much pretty laces and 
pretty trimmings add to a waist or dress, 
and I have found by using Diamond 
Dyes I can use laces and trimmings 
over and over again. I have just fin- 
ished a blue party dress and the lace 
for the neck, sleeves and front of the 
waist I dyed to match exactly, and this 
was some lace I had used on two waists 
in different colors before. I really don't 

know what I would do without Diamond 
Dyes — they are the most practical econ- 
omy I have ever used." 

Miss Margaret Larkin, 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 

"Made from a faded shirt" 

"How to keep mylittle girl prettily dressed 
has alway been a problem, but it is a good 
deal simpler one since I have learned to use 
all the odds and ends of my own wardrobe. 
I have just made her a little new dress, 
using material in a skirt I had worn for some 
time, dyeing the material with Diamond 
Dyes to do away with the fading and the 
stains. The trimmings, of course, are new, 
but not a person can tell that the entire dress 
is not new." 

Mrs. Everett Hughson, Newark, N", J. 

Diamond Dyes will reduce the 
cost of clothing your children to a 

minimum. Material that is soiled, 
faded or partly worn, can be made 
almost any color you wish, with 
Diamond Dyes. It is as easy to use 
Diamond Dyes as to rinse clothes. 
The problem of keeping little ones 
attractive and neatly dressed is no 
problem at all when one has the 
magic secret, — the ease and certainty 
with which old cloth is made fresh 
and bright, and u new-looking," by 
the use of Diamond Dyes. 

Important Facts About Goods to be Dyed: 

The most important thing in connection with dyeing is to be sure you get the real Diamond Dyes. 

Another very important thing is to be sure that you get the kind of Diamond Dyes that is adapted to the article you intend to dye. 

Beware of substitutes for Diamond Dyes. There are many of them. These substitutes will appeal to you with such false claims as " A 
New Discovery " or " An Improvement on the Old Kind." Then the " New Discovery " or the " Improvement " is put forward as " One Dye 
for all Material," Wool, Silk or Cotton. We want you to know that -when any one makes such a claim he is trying to sell you 
an imitation of our Dye for Cotton, Linen and Mixed Goods. Mixed Goods are most frequently Wool and Cotton combined. If 
our Diamond Dyes for Cotton, Linen and Mixed Goods will color these materials when they are together, it is self-evident that they will 
color them separately. 

We make a Special Dye for Wool and Silk because Cotton and Linen (vegetable material) and Mixed Goods (in which vegetable material 
generally predominates) are hard fibers and take up a dye slowly, while Wool and Silk (animal material) are soft fibers and take up the dye 
quickly. In making a dye to color Cotton or Linen (vegetable material) or Mixed Goods (in which vegetable material generally predomi- 
nates), a concession must always be made to the vegetable material. 

No dye that will color Cotton or Linen (vegetable material) will give the same rich shade on Wool or Silk (animal material) that is obtained 
by the use of our Special Wool Dye. 

Diamond Dyes are anxious for your success the first time you use them. This means your addition to the vast number of women who are 
regular users of Diamond Dyes. When dyeing Cotton, Linen or Mixed G-oods, or when you are in doubt about the material, 
be sure to ask for Diamond Dyes for Cotton. If you are dyeing Wool or Silk, ask for Diamond Dyes/or Wool. 
niamnnil TIva Annual Woa Send us your name and address (be sure to mention your dealer's name and tell us whether he sells 
UlctmUUU Uye Annual ITee Diamond Dyes), and we will send you a copy of the famous Diamond Dye Annual, a copy of the 
Direction Book, and 36 samples of dyed cloth, all FREE. Address 


Dl am on d Dye s 
'Will do it 

June 1908 



{Silver Badge Winner) 
Standing at my window, between its curtains white, 
Dreamily I gaze into the peaceful winter night. 
There, spread out before me, is a scene most wondrous fair ; 
The star-lit sky, the snow-clad fields, the still woods dark and bare — 
The whitened road, the arching trees ; homes dotted here and there. 
And in each home the lamp is lit, and sends its cheerful glow 
Through the curtained window, and out into the snow. 


No, 1. A list of those whose work would have been used had space 

No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement. 


Harold G. Stanley 
Dora Guy 
E. Allena Champlin 
Edwina Spear 
Marjorie E. Chase 
Joyce Armstrong 
Dorothy Maitland Falk 
Margaret Farnsworth 
Ruth A. Wallace 
Barbara Thaw 
Katharine Blair Thaw 
Ethel B. Youngs 
Frances Isabelle 

Louise Alexandra 

Dorothy Douglas 
Helen Gardner 

Jeanne Demetre 
Helen Sckweckhardt 
Anna Katharine 

Maria Bullitt 
Helen J. Prescott 
Marjorie Acker 
Vernon B. Smith 
Webb Mellin Siemens 
Mary Hays 
Horace Hovey 

Muriel S. Falk 
Dorothy Leake 
Jack Hopkins 
John Matthew 
Dorman Smith 
Reginald Marsh 


Edwin Walters 
Melvin Miller 


Gordon Dodge 
Dorothy R. Fischer 
Robert Halstead 
Mary Goodwin 
Lucile M. Smith 
Elizabeth Zulauf 
Andrew Clark 
Eleanor R. Weeden 
Stasito Azoy 
Margaret Armstrong 
Helen Hunt Haines 
Kneeland Green 
Gordon Stevenson 
Rena Kellner 
Robert Sewall 

Du Bois 
Grace F. Slack 
Margherita W. Wood 
Helen E. Prince 
C. F. Gfroerer 
F. A. Coates 
Gisela von 

Edmund B. Williams 
Rosamund B. Simpson 
Emery B. Poor 
Marion Strausbaugh 
Priscella Flagg 
Durant Currier 
Norine Means 
Florence Amelia 

Betty Lisle 
Eleanor Weston Lewis 

Margaret Gale 
Lucia E. Halstead 
Alice G. Sutherland 
Evelyn M. Peterson 
Katherine Dulcebella 

Dorothy Barnes Loye 
Natalie Obrig 
Louise Jenkins 
Margaret L. Daniell 
Helen Townsend 
Julian K. Miller 
Marie Petersen 
Ellen C. Papazian 
Louise Wetherell 
Ruth Alden Adams 
Marshall B. Cutter 
Abraham J. Hertz 
Mabel Clarke 
George R. Nichols 
Peter Knapp 
Helen Houghton 

Verna Keays 
Mabel Teed 
Dorothy Wellington 
Eleanor Louise Acker 
Frank Horton 
M. Udell Sill 
Pauline Marcony 
Dorothy Starr 
Alice Hays 
Mildred S. Lambe 
Gladys Nolan 
Ruth B. Douglas 
Dorothy Louise Dade 
Frank H. Smith 
Helen Irvine 
Jessica Wagar 

Genevieve Stump 
Doris Hay Ellis 
Vivian Bowdoin 
Margaret J. Marshall 
Pamela C. Horsley 
Felicity Askew 
Hope Avery 
Katharine Arnold 
Mildred Marie 

Carrie F. McDowell 
Eleanor J. Carman 
Adderson L. Luce 
Charlotte Overell 
Joseph Auslander 
Florence A. Wagner 
Olive Ames Bliss 
Nanny Gail 
Helen Coffey 
Laura Crittenden 
Thomas Maythan 
Doris E. Pitman 
Lilla Work 
Louise F. 

Mary P. Zesinger 
Helen F. Batchelder 
Melville Cummin 
Frank P. Swett 
Doris Huestis 
Elizabeth Emerson 
Hart Shields 
Margaret Foster 
Robert B. Keator 
Helen J. Coates 
Holcomb York 
Frances Hampton 

Mildred L. Prindle 
Lawrence Holbrook 

David Freeman 
Eugenie M. Wuest 
Agnes Abbott 

Helen C. Otis 
Grace Margaret 

George Papazian 
Constance Plaut 
Edna Louise Crane 
Margaret V. Hanna 
Louis Beiswenger 
Leila Beatrice Starr 
Suzanne Bringier 
Milton Lewis Evans 
Marjorie Gibbons 
William Little, Jr. 
J. Wm. Schrufer 
Virginia Sanford 

William E. Fay 
James M. Wallace 
Charles Wilson 
Dorothy Rundle 
Violette Appleton 

Lois Addison Sprigg 
Alfred J. Johnson 
Muriel Minter 
James H. Robins 
Josephine Witherspoon 
Enoch Filer 
Barbara Wellington 
Muriel Read 
Lloyd H. Parsons 
F. Hortense Barcalo 
Marion Beech 
A. Hurst 

Woodworth Wright 
Jean Gilpin Justice 
John R. Byers 
Jessie E. Alison 
Stanley C. Low 


Marie Demetre 
James Coyle Kennedy 
Helen R. Manser 

J. M. Hayman, Jr. 
Milton Tucker 
Chester H. Menke 
Ethel Badgley 
Dorothy Hurd 
Samuel Wagner, Jr. 
Freda Fripp 
Margaret H. Bacon 
Elliott Pendleton, Jr. 
Carl F. Holmes 
Elmer Sandberg 
George W. Edwards 
Joyce Tucker 
Constance Ayer 


William D. Smith 
Marjorie F. Freeman 
Eugenia Parker 
Prue K. Jameison 
Sylvia Atwater 
Dorothy Langhoar 
Dorothy Oak 
Harold M. Norton 
Francis Wallace 
Vine D. Lord 
Lucie Keith Browning 
Robert C. Kilborn 
M. C. Morris 
Winnie Campbell 
Ida W. Pritchett 
Geo. B. Curtis 
Gladys Howard 
Herbert Bisbee 
William E. Keysor 
Ellen K. Hone 
William M. Conant 
Marion D. Freeman 
Eva M. Gray 
Remsen Wisner 

Peyton Randolph 

Ethel Rimington 



What It Is 

Made of — 

No. 1. 

No. 2. 

No. 3. 

No. 4. 

Clean Whole Wheat (No. 1) is separated into kernel and outer or bran-coat ; the 
first containing carbohydrates and proteids (tissue-material and energy-storing elements) ; 
the second, jihosphate of potash for rebuilding brain and nerve cells. The kernel is 

SKillfully Roasted (No. 2) to a degree that develops in wheat an aroma similar to 
Java coffee (but without the use of coffee or any drug-like substance) ; hence the delicious 
flavour, when Postum is served hot with cream, which has led many to think they were 
drinking coffee. The roasted kernels are then 

Cooled and Ground (No. 3) and set aside. The roasting has changed part of the 
starch into dextrin and dextrose, or grape-sugar, which form soluble carbohydrates, or 
energy-making material, and the proteids (tissue-forming elements) are also made soluble 
for prompt absorption. Next 

The Bran-Coat (No. 4) is mixed with molasses, roasted and ground separately, then 
blended with the other part of the wheat to form the perfected product — Postum. 

The relief from coffee ails when Postum is used instead, is a matter of history. Try 
it for your own self-proof. 

"There's a Reason." 

POSTUM CEREAL CO., LIMITED, Battle Creek, Michigan, U. S. A. 


Susan J. Appleton 
Anita Delafield 
Grace Logan 
Norman B. Grigg 
Delano Wood Ladd 
Agnes McGough 
Paul L. Bissell 
Mary D. Buttemer 
Frederick R. Bailey 
Carola von Thielmann 
Robert L. Rankin 
Maude Sawyer 
Eva B. Miller 
Lelia E. Wood 
Elmer W. Rietz 
Fred Dohrmann 
David Pernick 
Paul L. Tucker 


Theodore F. Fitz 

Katherine McConnell 
Marjorie Pope 
Margaret Palmer 
Frances Wilmarth 

Margaret Cornell 
Faith E. Palmerlee 
Alice Phelps Rider 
Dorothy McFarland 
Frances Hyland 
Dwight W. Anderson 
Dorothy Bennett 
Ruth Pennington 
Lucy E. Fancher 
Sue Alice Tarpley 
Katharine Brown 
Alice R. Craneh 
Marjorie J. Smith 
Elizabeth Page James 
Margaret Brown 
Aileen Hyland 
Annie Hillyer 
Primrose Lawrence 
Gladys Nelson 
Alice Barbant 
Margaret Babcock 
Celeste Barlow 
Helen Fitz James 

Anna L. Davis 
Margaret E. Myers 
Julia M. Barley 
Elizabeth Toof 
Arthur J. Kramer 
May Richardson 
Carolyn Bulley 
Bertrand Brown 
Lois Donovan 
Margaret E. Howard 
Evelyn Bresler 
Doris F. Halman 
Helen K. Kraps 
Carol Thompson 
Rhena Frances Howe 
Eleanor Wills 
James Randall Bliss 

Gabriella Elliott 
Barbara Kathleen 

Katherine Harrower 
E. Adelaide Hahn 
Phoebe A. Helmer 
Raimund Osborne 
Kathleen Courtenay 


Almeda L. McGreaham 
Margaret Taylor 
Daisy Ward 
Lucile Gass 
Charlotte Agnes 

Lucie L. Carter 
Ynez D. Pischel 
Dorothy Wood Johnson 
Jessie Morris 
Eleanor S. Halsey 
Frank Gunther 
Lois M. Cunningham 
Louis Caldwell 
Marjorie Campbell 
Earl Reed Silvers 
Ruth Harvey Reboul 
Ruth E. Fitts 
Stella Andersen 
Rose Norton 
Frances Elizabeth 

Adele Mae Beattys 
Margaret Houghteling 
Pauline Nichthauser 
Agnes Dunshee 
Theodora Rust 
Katherine Jo. Klein 
Mena Blumenfield 
Isabel M. Potter 
May Frances 
May Spiro 
Marjorie Soper 
Margaret Bartlett 
Sylvia Hading 
Adelaide Nichols 
Virginia F. Rice 
William C. Royal 
Doris Kent 
Louise True Bayley 
Lottie Weingarden 
Nina Williams 
Miriam Thompson 
Eleanor Sickles 
Marie Anna Lyons 
N. Wiener 
Lucile Thorne 
Louisa Pharo 
Rainie Imbre Miller 
Eleanor Habersham 
Agnes I. Prizer 
Jasper J. Jones 
Dorothy Coleman 
Marian C. Luce 
Irma A. Hill 
Eloise Liddon 
Eleanor Baldwin 
Cornia Ely 

Frances M. Ross 
Frances Dohoney 
Albert Gerry Blodgett 
Malcolm Good 
Helen Page 

Ruth Livingston 
Eileen M. Fielding 
Alice Griffin 
George W. Abell 
Marie Kahn 
Maud Mallett 
Katharine Rolfe 
Frederic E. Holmes 
Lewis R. Kimberly 


A. Molesworth 
Alice Shoemaker 
Eleanor Longfellow 

Catharine E. Jackson 
Douglas Bement 
Franklin Warren Wolf 
Worthington Mitchell 
Lucile Phillips 
Grace F. Wood 
Mae Jouvette 
Frederick W. Baker 
Dorothy Gardner 
Ida M. Neyman 
Laura F. Lacy 
Beatrice Frye 
Mary Tact Atwater 
Helen F. Bell 
Frances Trolff Levy 
Helen Morris 
Marie Ames 
Ida C. Kline 
Pearl Lukens 
Anna H. Hutchinson 
Beatrice Milliken Burt 
Charles Wesley 

Mabel R. Moores 
Helen Wilson 
Katharine L. Goetz 
Louise M. Anawalt 
Helen S. McLanahan 
Ida F. Parfitt 
Marion Snyder 
Agnes D. Shipley 
Margaret L. Sayward 
Anna Bartlett Kessler 
Ruth Robinson 
Mildred Best 
Gerard Allen 
Helen L. Parsons 
May Smith 
Margaret Ritsher 
Jennaveve John 
Eleanor Stewart Cooper 
Ellen Low Mills 
Elinor Kiely 
Lucy S. Turner 
John W. Hill 
Marion Eva Tubbs 
Helen M. Gassaway 

Vivian Smith 
Jack Wittenberg 
Howard Shaw 
Elizabeth Butterfield 
Esther H. Phillips 
Mabel Seitz 
Frederica H. Atwood 
Louise Winston 

Rhoda Collins 

Thoda StanclifTe 

Carolyn Perry 
Bedros Y. Chekib 
Marjorie Reid 
Beulah Elizabeth 

G. C. Holloway 
Xenil Tousley 
Garnet Eyre Macklin 

Benita Clarke 
Mary H. Oliver 
Dorothy Wilcock 
Irene M. Nichols 
Everett A. Harley 
MaryB. Ellis 
William H. Crawford 
Knowles Blair 
Dorothy Grace Willett 
Harriet Angear 


Marguerite Parmelee 

Helen Powers 

Muriel Rachel Laycock 


Mary Augusta Johnson 
Charlesanna Coles 
Dorothy Gay 
Charles B. Morse 
Roland Louis Loiseaux 
Alice Walcutt 
F. Trevelyan Smith 
Alice E. Carpenter 
Marjorie S. Harrington 
Josephine Kelsey 
Carol Rutter 
Marguerite Arnold 
Marion L. Richards 
Elisa MacLean Piggott 
Marguerite Mullen 
Margaret C. Hearsey 
Rosalie Waters 
Rachel Estelle A. King 
Katherine Carr 
Louise Roberts 
Gladys S. Bean 
Gertrude Emerson 

Eleanor E. Wild 
Mabel Logan 
Therese Born 
Helen Brown 
Walter R. Osterman 
Edwin Thomas Randall 
Mildred L. Perry 
Marguerite Snow 
Rachael M. Talbott 
Phyllis E. Ridgeley 
Eleanor Mead 
Sarah Schuyler Butter 
Josephine Keene 
Muriel Wood 
Marian Barnes 
Alvin K. Pullian 
Jeanne Jacoby 
Elizabeth King 
Angelica McLean 
Eldon Meyer 
Frances Woodworth 

RandallJ. LeBoeuf, Jr. 
Margaret Finch 
H. Bartol Estrada 
Dorothy Lyon 
Anita G. Lynch 
Velma M. Jolly 

Grace E. Kennedy 

Margaret Spahr 

Helen V. Merwin 

Maco Sheppe 

Grace M. Scofield 

Margaret P. Jaques 

Mary Ruth Lyne 

Sarah Tobin 

Charles Barker 

Eleanor Gould 

Harold Smith 

H. G. Flood 

Helen Crathern 

Ruth Philips 

Florence Mallett 

Rebecca Wolfsohn 

Leah Fowle 

James Bruce 

Lilian Lee Biddle 

Munson H. Lane 
Ewart Judson 


Marion C. Nelson 
Esther L. Mead 
Lucy Barbee 
Phoebe S. Lambe 
Alice Lowenhaupt 
Mary Crocker 

Clara H. Goetting 
Ruth Broughton 
Cassius M. Clay, Jr. 
Henry Paul Brown 
Gertrude T. Nichols 
Caroline C. Johnson 
Elizabeth D. Brennan 
Margaret F. Whittaker 
Ethel Bowman 
Cornelia Chapin 
Martha Noll 
Herbert M. Davidson 
Ethel N. Emery 
Letty Robinson 


Sterling Bottome 
Bertha Pitcairn 
Leonard Larabee 
Mary Gale Clark 
Ruth S. Coleman 
Edith B. Farnsworth 
Alice Farnsworth 
Sidney B. M. Dexter 
Marion Webb 
Louisa Lunt 
Mildred Driesbach 
R. H. Morewood 
Eleanor Parker 
Louise Stockbridge 
Richard Wagner, Jr. 
Chas. T. Schrage 
Nancy Ely 
Louise Briggs 


The St. Nicholas League is an organi- 
zation of St. Nicholas readers. No 
membership fee. A League badge and 
instruction leaflet will be sent free. Ad- 
dress St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York City. 



1000 FEET 




MuskokaL i^akes, Canada 

" The Grandest Spot in all America. " 
Lakes of Blue, Set with Isles of Emerald 

Canoeing, Bathing, Fishing, beautiful Water Trips, Golf 
and Tennis. 

Modern Motel, excellent cuisine, cool verandas and homelike 

rooms perfumed by the fragrant pines. JIay-fever unknown. 

Less than a day's journey from principal American cities, 

via Niagara Falls, Detroit, Chicago. Solid trains from Buffalo 

and Toronto. 

Handsomely illustrated descriptive matter sent free on ap- 
plication to 

G. W. VAUX, 917 Merchants Loan and Trust Bldg., Chicago, 111. 
F. P. 1IWYKR, 290 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 
E. H. BOYNTON, 360 Washington Street, Boston, Mass. 
W. ROBINSON, 506 Park Building, Pittsburg, Pa. 
W. E. DAVIS. 0. T. BE1I,, 

Passenger Traffic Manager, Gen'l Passenger & Ticket Agent. 

Montreal. Montreal. 


Low Summer Rates Into The Mountains 


The Denver & 
Rio Grande R. R. 

From Denver, Colorado Springs, Manitou, and Pueblo. Special half rate excursions to 

Resort Points in Colorado, Utah and New Mexico on following dates : 

June 2, 9, 16, 23, 26, 27, 30 
July 7, 9, 10, 11, 14, 21, 28 
August 4, 11, 18, 25 
September 1, 8, 15, 22, 29 
October 6, 13 

In addition to above, Summer Tourist tickets, at reduced rates, good thirty days from 
date of sale, will be on sale daily from May 15th to October 31st. 

Hunting, Fishing and Camping Rates, parties of three or more on one ticket, will be on 
sale April 1st to November 15th, at one fare for round trip, good thirty days. 

For free descriptive literature, 


General Passenger Jtgent 
Denver, Colo. 



r PHE arrangement of the stamps in an album is one of 
JL the first problems which confronts the young col- 
lector. The way in which this is to be done is com- 
paratively simple for one who owns a printed album. 
The arrangement in this is practically decided, so that 
one has only to follow the directions and the stamps are 
placed properly. Many, however, begin their collect- 
ing with the use of a blank book and the question then 
immediately arises, how shall the stamps be arranged? 
The most approved idea is to place the oldest issues 
first, leaving plenty of space at the end of each country 
in order that new issues may be added as they are put 
forth from time to time. It is customary in every 
country to place the stamps of that country first and 
then to follow an alphabetical arrangement for the 
stamps of all foreign countries. This arrangement 
may be absolutely alphabetical or it may vary slightly, 
so that while all countries beginning with the same letter 
are found together several of the smaller stamp-issuing 
countries may be placed together upon a single page as 
may be convenient and without following the alphabeti- 
cal order beyond the first letter. The alphabetical 
idea is, of course, to make it easy to find the stamps in 
the album. A variation of this order is made by those 
who arrange their stamps alphabetically under grand 
divisions. Thus the stamps of Europe, Asia, Africa, 
are each placed alphabetically under these heads. The 
chief objection to this latter method is that when one is 
using a standard catalogue it cannot be turned page for 
page with the album. The use of a catalogue with an 
album, whether blank or printed, is necessary and there- 
fore a correspondence in the order of the stamps is a 
great convenience. A proper arrangement having 
been decided upon for a collection the stamps should be 
neatly hinged to the pages by the use of the small 
paper hinges which may be obtained from any dealer. 
It is well to place these close to the top of a stamp so 
that it may be raised without injuring the perforation 
in those cases in which it is considered necessary to ex- 
amine the back of a stamp for watermarks or printings 
upon it. 


IT was a curious idea in the early days of the issuing 
of stamps to reduce the size of a stamp in order to 
decrease the value. Thus in 1851-56 the twelve-cent 
stamp of the United States was cut diagonally in half 
in order that it might be used as a six cent. The same 
method was followed in 1862 with the two-cent black, 
which was also in some instances cut vertically to be 
used as a one cent, but most peculiar of all was the 
cutting of the three-cent stamp of 1869 so that two- 
thirds of it was used as a two-cent stamp. This cutting 
of stamps has been followed by a number of foreign 
countries. Grenada, St. Christopher, and the Falkland 
Islands cut stamps in two diagonally. St. Lucia did 
the same with a vertical cut. While in the Niger Coast 
Protectorate we find them bisected both diagonally and 
vertically. The island of St. Vincent went so far as to 
perforate the stamps through their centers vertically, 
so that they might be easily separated to be sold and 
used for half their face. The reason why these bi- 
sections should be made diagonally and vertically 
rather than horizontally, is not very plain. It may 

have been that the design of the stamp being much 
the same on its two sides and not so much alike at the 
top and bottom, showed more plainly as being from 
the same stamp when cut as was customary. A hori- 
zontal bisection would in some cases leave the original 
value fully stated on the lower half of the stamp with 
nothing of the sort on the upper portion. In order to 
meet this difficulty, it was found best to stamp upon 
the cut stamp its new value. It seems then to have 
occurred to the authorities that there was no reason 
whatever for cutting the stamp and reducing it to an 
inconvenient size. 


THERE are some countries among whose stamps 
one may find uncatalogued varieties. A collector 
not long ago called our attention to some of these 
which had come to him from Labrador which had made 
many varieties of surcharge upon its regular issues 
since 1900, some of which have not been listed in the 
catalogues. Collectors who receive mail from South 
American countries which issue surcharges should note 
the character of these very carefully, as forms and sizes 
-sometimes differ materially and the scarcity of the 
stamp is affected thereby. The countries which have 
ceased to issue stamps form an interesting field for 
collecting. One does not have to consider what new 
issues will appear for the countries of Baden, Prussia, 
Nova Scotia, Zululand, and many others. 

C - 'T , HE fact that there are no prices printed in the 
JL catalogue opposite an issue is not a.sign that the 
stamps are very rare. It is often the case, particularly 
with the stamps of Spanish Colonies, like Fernando Po 
and Rio De Oro, that it takes a long time to get speci- 
mens of them into circulation. The postal use is ex- 
tremely small and it has never been considered safe to 
send money to postmasters in these countries in order 
to secure the stamps in unused condition. Old issues, 
unpriced, are usually scarce. The differences in the 
first and second issues of the stamps of Bulgaria are 
seen most plainly in the inscriptions in the lower half 
of the oval. A comparison of the stamps with the 
same figures of value in the corner with the cuts in the 
catalogue will show to which issue they belong. C.Laid 
paper is that which has in it lines similiar to those 
which may be seen when it is held to the light in what 
is ordinarily known as linen writing paper. These 
are not always plain in stamps but are easily discovered 
if a stamp having them is wet in benzine. Wove 
paper is now a general term used for those stamps 
which show no laid lines or which were printed on 
paper which looks like woven cloth. C,The plating of 
stamps consists in placing side by side stamps which, 
having been separately engraved, differ from one another 
although they are of the same date and issue. The 
collector who plates the early issues of New South 
Wales, for instance, seeks to secure all the twenty-five 
varieties and replace them just as they appeared in 
the sheet printed from the original plate. Modern 
processes of producing stamps are such that every one 
in a plate is like every other. Thus there is no such 
thing as "plating" them. 




5TilWD<J 1fl& different, including 

o i nmro iuo new p anama> id 

Chile, Japan, curious Turkey, scarce Paraguay, 
Philippines, Costa Rica, West Australia, several un- 
used, some picture stamps, etc., all for 10c. Big list 
and copy of monthly paper free. Approval sheets, 
50% commission. 
SCOTT STAMP & COIN CO., 18 East 23d St., New York 


A little pamphlet giving the pleasure and instruction 
of stamp collecting, together with our 1908 Price 
List and fifty (50) varieties of foreign stamps to start 
•J -fl I* CtoiT|f|C a ^ different, including 8 unused Picto- 
J. JLVJ Lj>8.dIla|J3 rial, and used from all quarters of the 
globe, loc. 40 Page Album, 5c. 1000 hinges, 5c. Approval 
sheets also sent, 50 per cent, commission. 

New England Stamp Co., 43 Washington Bldg., Boston. 

F IJ IJh 1 Eh 1 10 Canadian stamps and Album has 480 spaces, for 
* J* » i B < the names of two collectors and 3c. postage. 20 var. 
Cuba unused, 12c D. CROWELL STAMP CO., Toledo, O. 

STAMP COIXECTORS interested in British Colonial 
stamps of the highest quality, or the finest album, should send 
for our circulars. No approval sheets. Send 10c for 6 numbers, 
"Colonial Stamp News" — the best Stamp Magazine. 

Colonial Stamp Co., 953 E. 53d St., Chicago 

TTD^BTT! O Montenegro 1874 yn cat. 35c; S. Ujong 2c. 
L UL B4 ¥ (tiger) cat. 20c; Persia 1903 rokcat. 25c, and 
B m B J m 3\ a 15 others as good. Anyone of them free to 
new approval customers. Our 6o% discount 
sheets are the finest in the world. Over $40,000 worth of stamps 
kept in stock for our 60% selections. Lists free. Write now. 
W. C. PHILLIPS & CO., Glastonbury, Ct. 

Each set 5 cts. — 10 Luxemburg; 8 Fin- 
land ; 20 Sweden ; 4 Labuan ; 8 Costa 
Rica; 12 Porto Rico; 7 Dutch Indies. Lists of 5000 low-priced 
stamps free. CHAMBERS STAMP CO., 

111 G N assau Stre et, New York Cit y. 

^^&. STAMPS. We S i ve FREE 15 all different Canadians, 10 1 ndia 
jK§^™*8» and catalogue Free for names, address of two stamp collectors 
Of \gj and 2 cents postage. Special Offers, no two alike, 40 Japan 
IHfc Mm 5 C - 5° Spain 11c, 100 U. S. 20c, 200 Foreign 10c, 50 Australia 9c, 
«WjljrcW [o Paraguay 7c, 10 ( Uruguay 6c, 17 Mexico 10c. 6 Mauritius 4c, 4 

NSSgjgS/ Congo 5c. Agents Wanted, 5o96 commission. 50 Page List Free. 
^SSE^ MARKS STAMP COMPANY, Dept. N ( Toronto, Canada. 


7 VAKlJbTIES, old issues, for the names and addresses of 
three active stamp collectors. Send 2-cent stamp for postage. 
Old Colony Sta mp Co., Dept. A, P. O. Box 59, Milford, Conn. 


53 DIFFERENT, including China and unused Cuba, for the 
names and addresses of two active stamp collectors. Send, 2-cent 
stamp for postage, Edgevvood Stamp Co., De pt. X, Milford, Conn. 

/d£9^> QTAEM9D3? 108 all diff. Transvaal, Servia, Bra- 
ISl j! • * HDI'd zil, Peru, Cape G. H., Mexico, Na- 
IHfe 41 tal - Java - etc., and Album 5c. 1000 FINELY 
ttgS-Jgg> MIXED 20c. 65 diff. U. 3. 25c. 1000 hinges 5c. 
J*^^, Arts. wtd. 50%. LIST FREE. 1 buy stamps. 
C. STEGMAW. 5941 Cote Brill Avenue, ST. LOUIS, MO. 


' I 1 t= L_ the names of several stamp collectors and return 
postage. 1000 foreign, 14c; 30 diff. Sweden, 10c; 12 diff. 
Austria, 4c. Catalog pricing all stamps, 10c; 6diff. China, 10c. 
Write for our List of DEALERS' OUTFITS, and other Lists 
TIFFIN STAMP CO., Sta. "A," 116a, St., Columbus, O. 




with every new subscrip- 
tion to REDFIELD'S 
largest, best printed and 
best edited weekly stamp 
paper in the world. 
Here is a list of the splendid 
stamps we give abso- 
lutely free to each sub- 
scriber. Stamps and paper 
BOTH only 50c. 

A beautiful unused set 
of Honduras, 1891, 2, 
5 and 10 Pesos (these 
three stamps cata- 
logue at 20c. each) 
complete set . . $0.60 

A beautiful unused set 
of Dominican Re- 
public, 1902, 1, 2, 5, 
10, 12, 20 and 50c, 
complete set, cata- 
logue value . . . .30' 
All of the stamps in both of the above sets are printed in two 
colors and will make a handsome addition to any collection. 
300 all different foreign stamps (a fine collection in itself) 

catalogue value $5-35 

A full year's subscription to REDFIELD'S STAMP 

WEEKLY (52 issues) 50 

ALL THE ABOVE ONLY 50c. Total catalogue value, ~$~6^s 
We are making this really remarkable offer solely to get you 
acquainted with REDFIELD'S STAMP WEEKLY the best 
stamp collector's paper. If you collect stamps you will find 
REDFIELD'S of greatvalue. It keeps you posted. Over 
5,000 paid subscribers. Published every Saturday. 
Send along your 50c. and we will send you, by return mail, the 
above stamps exactly as advertised and will enter your name for 
a full year's subscription to REDFIELD'S STAMP WEEKLY. 
If either the paper or the stamps do not more than come up to 
your expectations we will refund your money promptly. Address, 
THE REDFIELD PUBLISHING CO., 759 Main Street, Smethport, Pa. 

STAMPS! Hoys make money during vacation trading 
in stamps! We help you — our Surprise packet, 10<>U 
assorted line, many odd, including Malay, Newfound- 
land, etc., only 15c. ! Special— fine set unused worth 24c. 
Free! Album, lists, coupons, free! Agents wtd. 50 per cent. 
E. J. Schuster €0., Dept. 8, St. Louis, Mo. 

VARIETIES URUGUAY FREE with trial approval 
sheets. F. E. THORP Norwich N.Y. 

>2£LP- Detroit En£ine for»29^ 

Starts without cranking; 
no cams; valves, springs 
orsprockets. Only 3 mov- 
ing parts. Alt 
bearings bab- 

For your Row 
Launch. 10,000 
iu use. 

:o H. P. Pro- 
late prices. 

Cylinders and 

tons ground. 
Crank shaft 
drop forged 
steel. All 

sizes ready 
to ship. 

1318 Jefferson Ave., Detroit, Mich. catalog 

The No. 2 A 


Pictures, 2%x4Jl. Price, $3.00. 

Built on the Kodak plan— uses Kodak film cartridges 
and may be loaded and unloaded in broad daylight. No 
dark-room for any part of the work. A perfectly practical 
little camera for snap-shots or time exposures. 

THE 1908 KODAK CATALOGUE fully describes 
and illustrates our six styles of Brozvnies, and fifteen 
styles of Kodaks, ranging in price from $1.00 to over 
$100.00, and fully explains the daylight development 
methods which have done away with the dark-room. 
Free at any Kodak dealers or by mail. 



St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 80. 

Time to hand in answers is up July 25. Prizes awarded in September number. 

Special Notice : This competition is open freely 
to all who may desire to compete, without charge 
or consideration of any kind. Prospective con- 
testants need not be subscribers for St. Nich- 
olas in order to compete for the prizes offered. 
See requirements as to age and former prize-win- 
ning below. 

For Competition No. 80, we are going to set 
you so easy a task that you will say, " Now is my 
chance for first prize ! " Then you will readily 
guess all the answers, and will write them out in 
a hurry, with a plentiful sprinkling of errors, 
slam them into an envelop, and wait impatiently 
for a prize. 

Hundreds of you will do this, and instead of 
those hundreds the judges will choose as prize- 
winners the sixteen competitors who carefully 
consider each "hint," make the answers fit the 
description exactly, give all names precisely as 
they are advertised, insert all marks and every 
necessary particular. 

But age will be considered in the awarding of 


A Vacation Story 

A small boy and his sister, attentive readers of St. Nich- 
olas, made careful preparation for their vacation by send- 
ing or carrying to their summer home a good supply of 
advertised articles. In order that you may see how many 
useful things they had heard of through St. Nicholas, we 
give you hints of what they were, and wish that you would 
make out a complete list of them from these hints. 

They included preparations for changing the colors of 
cloth (1), two brands of chewing-gum (2, 3), some neat 
boxes of white crystals of which they were very fond (4), 
powder for making a beverage they drank hot for breakfast 
(5), a brown granular preparation for the same meal (6), 
some bonbons that bore a name often met with in Scotch 
history (7), a very fine almost impalpable mineral substance 
grateful to a sunburned skin (8), some little charms they 
liked to carry about (9), an instrument for packing air into 
a small space and then releasing it suddenly (10), three kinds 
of cakes they could not eat, but found useful every day 
(n, 12, 13), two black boxes for catching sunbeams (14), 
a machine driven by foot-power for making revolutions 
(15), a substance that would turn bread and butter into 
something named after an English lord (16), a lot of picnic 
material that would keep until wanted (17), some tableware 
much cheaper than it appeared (18), and two regular vis- 
itors, merely to look at (19, 20). 

Now be kind enough to tell us what names are 
needed to make this list complete and clear. 

Write out the twenty different things, in order 
as named, and numbered. 

As many of you will guess them all, we are go- 
ing to award the prizes for the best, neatest, and 
most creditable answers, taking age into con- 

All of the things named have been recently ad- 
vertised in St. Nicholas, and there is nothing 
to prevent your guessing them all. 

Please do not send type-written answers. 

For the best answers received in this compe- 
tition the following prizes will be awarded : 

One First Prize of $5. 
Two Second Prizes of $3 each. 
Three Third Prizes of $2 each. 
Ten Fourth Prizes of $1 each. 

The following are the conditions of the competition : 

1. Anyone under 18 yearsmay compete for a higher prize 
than he or she has already won in the Advertising Compe- 
titions. See special notice above. 

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your paper, give name, 
age, address, and the number of this competition (80). 
Judges prefer paper to be not larger than 12 x 12 inches. 

3. Submit answers by July 25, 1908. Use ink. Write 
on one side of paper. Do not inclose stamps. Fasten 
your pages together at the upper left-hand corner. * 

4. Do not inclose request for League badges or circulars. 
Write separately for these, if you wish them, addressing 

5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if you wish to 
win prizes. 

6. Address answers: Advertising Competition No. 80, 
St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New York, N. Y. 

The riddles which formed the basis of this trial 
of wits were composed by one of the judges of 
the competitions, and one who was entirely fa- 
miliar with the marvelous ingenuity that enables 
our puzzlers to find more than one answer to the 
most carefully guarded question. And in this 
case, although the twelve riddles were gone over 
with the greatest care so as to prevent the fitting 
of but one answer to each, the unhappy judges 
confess that they are no match whatever for the 
constructive genius of the young readers of ST. 
NICHOLAS. To nearly every question there came 
a number of answers. Yet in their perplexity the 
judges have one consolation — they feel that all 
of the best solvers agree in thinking that the 
judges' answers to the riddles fit them most 
closely. The answers which the judges had in 
mind are these : 

1. Racycle. 

2. Sapolio. 

3. Diamond Dyes. 

4. Ivory Soap. 

5. Miniature Novelty Co. 

6. Swift's Premium Hams. 

7. Associated Sunday Magazines. 

8. Grape-Nuts. 

9. Baker's Cocoa. 

10. Woman's Home Companion. 

11. Meriden Britannia Co. 

12. Pears' Soap. 

Now, in regard to the answers that they re- 
ceived, the judges desire, first, to make a few 
general remarks. Most important of all, they 
wish to say that there is a marked increase in ac- 
curacy, neatness, and attention to all the condi- 
tions of the competition. This wiil be appreciated 
when it is announced that out of hundreds of 
answers received there were forty-one that were 
absolutely correct, neatly written, and, indeed, 
without anything that could be called an error. 
A great number of the rest contained only slight 
blemishes or the tiniest possible errors in punc- 
tuation, capitalizing, or matters of the very least 
importance. No doubt, many who read over the 
answers will say at once, " I do not see why I 
did n't get a prize ; my answers were just like 
those." But these same competitors, if they had 


See also page 14. 


The Stearns School 

For Young Boys 

A tub-flttmg school, preparing boys for Phillips- 
Andover and other leading schools. Coarse of study 
includes the first two years' work of the usual high 
school. The home life is cheerful and sympathetic, 
boys Irving in cottages with the principal and 
mastere.andconstantly under their watchful care 
and supervision. The school Is beautifully lo- 
cated in a small New England town, among 
the picturesque hills of New Hampshire. 
The climate is delightful and beneficial 
to health. All outdoor sports— golf 
course, tennis court and baseball 
field. Gymnasium. For further 
information, address 
Mom Vernon. 
New Hampshire. 


New- York, Carmel. 

Drew Seminary preparatory courses. Music, Art, 
Elocution. Special attention paid to elementary instruction. 
Buildings new and well equipped. Rates $300. For catalogue, 
address the President, Martha L. Hanaburgh. 

A H i tv~>yi rl o ^ Ir c In the 6 reat woods . under the pines and 
.tt.U.11 UllU-clOlva balsams and hemlocks— at Beautiful Blue 
Mountain Lake, the Summer Camp for Boys — July 1st to Sep- 
tember 1st, 1908. Hunting, fishing, boating, etc. Tutoring, if de- 
sired. Illustrated booklet — apply to 

The Director, The Rectory, Pulaski, N. Y. 

WILDMERE Maine Woods 

(Branch Camp in the Rooky Mountains) 

The kind of vacation that does good. Mountain 
climbing, canoeing, fishing — the life a boy loves. 
Coaching trip through the White Mountains. Man- 
ual Training, Motor boat, Bungalow, Dining Hall, 
Boat House, all new. Companionship of college- 
bred leaders. Tutoring. Resident physician. 
Ninth season. Booklet. Ten boys may earn part 

448 Sixth St., Brooklyn, New York 


IIP tJ ! .. : ' ; 


*' '"MM?" "^ 


■ip t.£ ■ n 

1 vtsmu ^sa 

grk <j 



■P' is! 






Rockland Military Academy 

West Lebanon, K. M. 

Owns twenty-five acres of land on Mascoma Lake at Enfield, 
N.H., where a cottage has been erected especially to meet the 
needs of our Summer Camp for Boys well known as Camp 
Rockland. We also have a Hunter's Lodge in the woods five 
miles east of the camp. Our school, camp, and lodge make a 
combination hard to beat. Circulars free. Address 
Elmer E. French, A.M., Supt., "West Lebanon, N.H. 

Wisconsin, Delafield. For boys in the Wisconsin Woods. 
TT^oixrotin r'owi-i^o Saddle-horses, sail-boats, motor- 
iVeewatin Lamps boats, shells, baseball, tennis, fenc- 
ing, boxing, track, swimming, fishing, music. Trips over trail and 
waterwaythru Mich., Minn., and So. Ont. College preparation, one 
counselor for four boys. Winter Tutorial Camp. J.H.Kendregan. 



Climbing, canoeing, swimming, riding, tennis. Expert coaching 
forschool or college if desired. Athletic Instructor. Modern Cot- 
tage with bath room. Tents with floors and khaki flies. Open-air 
Mess Hall. Mountain Spring Water. Perfect Health Record. 

Illustrated Booklet. 733-735 Madison Ave., New York. 

A juvenile mountain par- 
adise. Boating, bathing, 
fishing, coaching trips 
over the mountains and 
all outdoor sports. Tutor- 
ing if desired. Booklet. 


Delaware Water Cap, Pa. 


The Original Milk Chocolate 

Always maintains the highest 
standard of purity and quality, 
and you never grow tired of 


LAMONT, CORLISS & CO., Sole Importers 
78 Hudson Street, New York 




to act in the judges' place, would have been 
forced to throw out their own answers, not be- 
cause they were wrong in any way, but because 
others were equally faultless as regards correctness 
in answering, but were neater or more carefully 

Another matter that should be mentioned be- 
fore going into detail about the riddles is the 
danger of trying to do too much. A number of 
you wrote out the riddles in giving the answers. 
This is entirely unnecessary, and brings danger 
of mistakes in every line. The same remark ap- 
plies to the careful explanations to show how the 
answers are correct. You may know that the 
maker of the puzzle will quickly recognize the 
correct answer, and knows well why it is correct. 
Some of you carefully put answers in alphabetical 
order, though expressly told to keep them in the 
order of the riddles. Others made tiny mistakes 
in writing, erased them, and wrote over the 
erasure. In so short a set of answers it was 
better to recopy the whole than to mar the answer 
when the competition was one in which neatness 
was especially mentioned as counting in the award 
of prizes. 

The judges think you may be interested in a 
list of some of the remarkable answers that were 
given to the riddles. So, below, we give you a 
list of these guesses, errors, and wrong spellings, 
putting them under the number of the riddle to 
which they were meant to be answers : 

1. Ray Cycle, Camera, Re, Rhea, Miami, 20th 
Century Limited, Gold-dust, Jell-o, Mead Cycle, 

2. Pond's Extract. 

3. Stamps. 

4. Rubifoam, Dioxygen. 

5. Minature, for Miniature. 

6. Hams, Cured Hams, Swift's, Chesebrough 

7. Magazine, for Magazines. 

8. Grape nuts, Grape Nuts, for Grape-Nuts, 
Grape juice, Libby's Olives. 

9. Coco, for Cocoa. 

10. Gold-dust, Mother's Home Companion, 
Women's Home Companion, Swift's Little Cook. 

11. Oneida Community, Electro Silicon, Meri- 
d«n, Brittania, Britania, Brittana, for Britannia ; 
Fairbanks' Gold-dust Twins. 

12. pear's, Honey and Almond Cream, Pond's 
Extract, Armour's Extract of Beef, Huyler's Lic- 
orice Tablets, Quaker Oats, Benger's Food, 
Campbell's Soup, Rat-Biskit, Crystal Domino 
Sugar, Pearline, Milkweed Cream, Mennen's 
Borated Talcum Powder. 

But as to No. 12, the judges admit that there 
was some reason for considering a few of these 
answers as very nearly allowable. These are 
Pond's Extract, Rat-Biskit, Pearline, and Milk- 
weed Cream. But, after careful consideration, 
it was believed and decided that no one of these 
answers filled exactly enough the riddle's phrase, 
" A friend who takes unwelcome matter off your 
hands." Pearline, for example, may be used to 
take certain substances from the hands, but "un- 
welcome matters " was purposely made a very 
14 See also 

general phrase so as to cover all dirt, and the 
word " pear " can hardly be said to fit closely the 
phrase, "some food." "Pears" does fit the 
phrase. Rat-Biskit would require rats to be de- 
scribed as " unwelcome matters " to be "taken 
off the hands." 

Now, considering that all but a very few of you 
easily found the correct answer, we do not think 
it right to stretch a point to put those who gave 
other solutions ahead of those whose solutions 
were entirely correct and needed no allowance. 

Here follows the list of prize-winners : 

Note : All those whose names appear in these 
lists sent in answers that were virtually correct. 

Where competitors stood otherwise equal, prefer- 
ence was given to the younger, on the ground that 
goodtuork is more creditable in younger competitors. 
One First Prize of Five Dollars : 


C. Beale (13), Cambridge, 

Two Second Prizes of Three Dollars Each : 

Dorothy Wormser (13), San Francisco, Calif. 
Rakel B. Olsen (14), Stephen, Minn. 
Three Third Prizes of Tico Dollars Each : 

Bessie M. Blanchard (14), Nicholville, N. Y. 
Mary L. Ruhl (14), Clarksburg, W. Va. 
Helen Pence (15), Madison, Wis. 
Ten Consolation Prizes of One Dollar Each : 
Rose Edith Des Anges (16). Alice Mason (15). 
Margaret E. Nash (15). Eleanor S. Wilson (15). 
Louise C. Brown (15). Gertrude Tower Nichols (17). 

Gertrude M. Howland (15). Edwards Kneass (17). 
Thelma Fremersdorf (15). Elsie Wormser (17). 


John E. Burke (14). 
Richard Steele (iz). 
Dorothy L. Nichols (14). 
Ruth Allen (14). 
Lucinda Bradford (15I. 
Hilda R. Bronson (15). 
Hester Matthews (15). 
Grace M. Hermarne (16). 
Roy Phillips (16). 
Kathleen McKeag (13I. 
Agatha L. Walker (15). 
Nettie A. Moe (17). 
Adolf Keuffel (14). 
Marion Morris (14). 
Carleton Hitchcock (13). 
Elizabeth Chown (15). 
Mary Home (13). 
Esther Depew (n). 
Isaac Kinsey (13). 
Anna Schenck (n). 
Winslow H. Randall (10). 

James Beiermeister (12). 
Paul W. New garden (16). 
Isabel Totten (14). 
Marjorie Spencer (14). 
Florian Agnes Shepard (14). 
Elizabeth D. Brennan (15). 
Rita Wheeler (15). 
Mary H. Oliver (16). 
Marcus A. Spencer (16). 
Dorothy Wellington (16). 
Priscilla Lankford (12). 
Margaret Regal (13). 
Elizabeth Griffith (16). 
R. L. Peek (9). 
David Hitchcock (14). 
Hugh Hitchcock (8). 
Marguerite Hyde (15). 
Esther Ware Hawes (15). 
Merrill M. Goodhue (12). 
Florence M. Haldeman (15). 
Richard B. Thomas (n). 
!3).Letty Robinson (14). 

Competitors whom former prize-winning pre- 
vented from winning any but a higher prize in 
Competition No. 78. 

Marguerite Knox (15) won $1 in No. 72. 
Neil Cameron (15) won $4 in No. 64. 
Esther Evans (14) won $2 in No. 67. 
Harlan A. Depew (16) won $1 in No. 65. 
Nellie Goldsmith (16) won $1 in No. 71. 
Alice H. Farnsworth (14) won $1 in No. 65. 
Myrtle Alderson (17) won $2 in No. 48. 
Clara Allen (17) won $1 in No. 55. 
Cornelia Sterrett Penfield (15) won $2 in No. 75. 
George Rollin Hippard (13) won $1 in No. 76. 
Jeanne Demetre (15) won $2 in No. 67. 
Elizabeth D. Lord (17) won $1 in No. 21, and $1 in No. 33. 
R. A. Webb, Jr., (16) won $2 in No. 67. 
page 12. 


"^yVIost picturesque thing I saw 
cyimerica." — Herbert Spencer^ 

All that you want to know about the beauties 
of this loveliest of waters and its wealth of accom- 
modations set forth in 

"A Summer Paradise" 

Issued by the Delaware & Hudson, mailed on 
receipt of 6 cents postage. The accessibility of Lake 
George, the excellence and variety of its hotel ac- 
commodations, and convenient train service make it 
an ideal spot for week end trips. 

This hand book treats also of numerous other 
resorts of cool Northern New York. 

New and accurate map of Lake George free 
on request. 

A. A. HEARD, Gen. Pa»». Agt.. Albany. N. Y. 


V "The Month 
of Roses" 

calls for special complexion 
safeguards, to insure a summer of 
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Mennen's ?°£*£? Toilet Powder 

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Mennen's Sen Yang Toilet Powder, Oriental odor) w . 

Mennen's Borated Skin Soap (blue wrapper) / "° sam P les 
Specially prepared for the nursery 



Ivory Soap is as useful at the seashore as it is at home. 

Please remember that. 

Please remember, also, that it is a very easy matter to find room in your 
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The soap which most summer hotels furnish is all right in its way; but 
it isn't as good as Ivory. Nor can it be used for so many different purposes 
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There is no *'free" (uncombined i alkali in Ivory Soap. That is 
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vory Doap 

99 4 ^oo Per Cent. P 


(Natural Flavor) 

Food Products 

Libby's Condiments 


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Veal Loaf 

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Can Live on Candy 

Chocolate Creams and Peanuts 
Would Keep You Alive, says 
Prof. Olsen. 

Professor John C. Olsen, Ph. D. 
United States Food and Drug Inspection 
Chemist, in his lecture on " Pure Foods and 
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A diet of this kind would not be expensive 
compared with the cost of other foods." 



Peanut Chocolate 

For Health & Strength 
For Sale Everywhere 





Vol. XXXV 

JULY, 1908 

No. g 


Relyea. : 


Betty sat on the top step of the porch, her el- 
bows on her knees and her chin propped on her 
hands. One long braid had become loosened and 
the strands of chestnut fell over her shoulder. 
Where the sun touched them, glints of red shone. 
Her brown eyes were dancing, and the little 
freckles only made the merry face more charm- 
ing. Personally, Betty disliked the freckles. 
"Looks as if some one had taken a pepper box 
and just sprinkled them on," she once said dis- 

This afternoon, she was unwontedly happy. 
Suddenly, she burst into song, her childish voice 
ringing out over the old garden, and her hand 
keeping time in unconscious imitation of Miss 
Elwood, the singing teacher. Betty adored Miss 
Elwood. She was so slender and graceful and 
smiled so sweetly as she beat time with her ebonv 
baton. The song Betty sang was one which 

Copyright, 1908, by The Cent 

often accompanied the flag salute at the close of 
the morning Assembly. "Hats off. The flag is 
passing by." The closing phrases swelled and 
retarded on the high notes. "The flag — is pass- 
ing — by-y-y" sang Betty. 

A catbird flew down from the syringa bush, 
and hopped along with that upward flirt of his 
tail which Betty found so fascinating. He cocked 
his head inquiringly as if trying to catch the air, 
then fluttered away across the box hedges. As 
his plaintive lilt drifted down, Betty burst into 
laughter. "It sounds just like Freddie Hammond 
when he sings. His voice is just so squeaky, but 
then I don't suppose he can help it, he 's so thin," 
she added contritely. 

"Oh me, oh my, I 'm so happy, and there 's 
father driving in the gate !" 

She started on a run down the gravel roadway, 
frantically pursued by the old collie, which, 
aroused by the sound of wheels, had come dash- 
ing from the stable. 

Dr. Buford drew up in pretended astonish- 
ment. "Bless me ! Who 's this Madcap Brownie 
with flying hair?" 

"It 's Elizabeth Hepburn Buford, and she 's 
going to hold the flag at closing," chanted Betty, 
as she clambered into the phaeton. "And it 's 
the most beautiful flag. Father, silk with a gold 
cord and — an eagle." She gave her father's arm 
an ecstatic little squeeze. "I 've got to stand on 
the stage in front of the minister, and the Board 

ury Co. All rights reserved. 




of Education, and Dr. Dearborn. The whole 
school is going to sing, then they 're going to 
give the flag salute, after which" — Betty assumed 
the dignified air of Professor Faulkner — "we will 
all join in singing 'The Star-Spangled Banner.' 
Is n't it just too lovely ?" She paused breathlessly. 

"Wonderful ! How are we ever going to bear 
up under such honor?" exclaimed Dr. Buford 
with mock gravity. "I suppose all this is pre- 
liminary to a new frock," he added with a 
twinkle in his eye. 

"Oh, my white one will do, if only Mrs. Cam- 
eron would put a tuck in it." Betty sighed. "She 
does make all my dresses so long. She 's so 
afraid I '11 grow. None of the other girls wear 
theirs so long, and I do look so old-fashioned." 

At Betty's tragic tone, Dr. Buford laughed out- 
right. "Perhaps in honor of such a grand occa- 
sion, we might make a trip to Saltillo and buy a 
frock with the regulation number of tucks. How 
would you like that, eh?" and he gave a twitch 
to a curly lock. 

"Just you and I, Daddy, without Mrs. Cam- 
eron ?" questioned Betty. 

The doctor nodded, smiling. 

"It would be just too lovely, you dear, darling 
Father," and Betty pulled his head down to give 
him a grateful kiss. 

"Well, here we are, Lady Elizabeth," and the 
doctor drew up before the porch. "Run in now 
and smooth your hair for tea, or Mrs. Cam- 
eron — " Betty caught up his words — "Mrs. Cam- 
eron will shake her head and smile and say, 'My 
dear, your hair is in disorder.' " Betty measured 
off her words. "Then I '11 feel so ashamed. If 
she 'd only scold once in a while, but she 's al- 
ways so calm." 

The doctor's lips twitched suspiciously as he 
gathered up the reins. Suddenly he paused. "By 
the way," he said, "Mrs. Dollivar sent for me 
to-day to see her little daughter. She 's hurt her 
ankle, and will have to stay in for a day or two. 
Her mother says the child is lonely. I thought 
you might run in to see her to-morrow. You 're 
the best tonic I can prescribe." 

Betty looked sober. "I don't know Anne Dol- 
livar very well. Of course she has n't lived here 
long, but she 's so quiet, and never stops to play 
with the other girls. She knows her lessons, 
though. She 's a perfect wonder in history." 
Betty's tone was one of respectful awe. "I don't 
believe I like her very well, but I suppose it 's 
hard to be in the house this lovely weather. I '11 
go to see her, Father, and I '11 take her a bunch 
of my violets. Maybe she '11 like that." 

"I 'm sure she will," said the doctor, "I have 
no doubt you '11 like her when you know her. 

She seems a nice little thing. I think she will 
soon be up and about." 

Between Dr. Buford and his daughter there 
was a strong tie, for Betty's mother had died 
when Betty was born. Mrs. Cameron, the elderly 
housekeeper, while good and kind, was not a per- 
son to invite confidence, and so Betty had gotten 
into the habit of bringing all her joys and per- 
plexities to her father, finding in him a sympa- 
thetic companion and a wise counselor. To him, 
his little daughter was the dearest thing on earth. 

At three o'clock the next day, Betty stood be- 
fore the charming old doorway of the Dollivar 
home, which lay some distance from town. Her 
heart was beating rapidly, for the old mansion 
was somewhat imposing, besides, she had never 
seen Mrs. Dollivar. In response to her some- 
what feeble ring, that lady, herself, opened the 
door, and then all of Betty's timidity vanished. 
She saw before her a little woman with the soft- 
est brown hair parted and waving low over her 
forehead. Her eyes reminded Betty of deep pur- 
ple pansies, and her smile was beautiful. 

Betty smiled back. "I 'm Betty Buford," she 
said. "Father told me Anne was sick, and so I 
came over to see her." 

Mrs. Dollivar took her by the hand. "Come 
right into the library, my dear — Anne will be 
glad to see you." 

She led Betty across the low, wide hall to a 
big room facing the west. Here Anne lay on a 
couch by the big window. "You '11 have to par- 
don her not rising," said her mother. 

A flush of pleasure came over Anne's pale face 
as Betty came forward, holding out the violets 
with a friendly smile. "I 'm so sorry you 're 
sick," she said; "I hate being sick myself. I 
thought perhaps you would like some of my vio- 

"Oh, thank you," said Anne, "they 're so sweet, 
and we have n't any in our garden." 

"I '11 give you some of our roots if you would 
like them," said Betty. "We 've a lot of them." 

"I should love to have some," said Anne, shyly. 

"I think I '11 leave you girls to visit with each 
other for a time," said Mrs. Dollivar, then with 
a smile she went away. 

As she left the room, Betty turned impetuously 
to Anne. "Is n't she lovely and sweet?" she 
cried. "I should think you 'd be so happy. My 
mother died soon after I was born. I have my 
father, though," she added loyally, "and he 's the 
best father on earth." 

"My father died last year," said Anne, return- 
ing confidence for confidence. "That 's his pic- 
ture on the mantelpiece." 

"He wears a soldier's uniform," said Betty. 




"Fie was a captain. We were living in a fort 
in Wyoming when he died. We 've always lived 
in forts till we came here. This house belongs to 
Grandpa Dollivar. That 's his picture above 

Betty turned interested eyes on the bearded, 
handsome man. There were two swords crossed 
above the portrait and a silk flag intertwined. 
"Why, he was a soldier, too!" she exclaimed 

them got into the fort and the Indians could n't 
take that." 

Betty's brown eyes were wide with excitement. 
"And who was this one?" She indicated another 
large portrait opposite the chaplain's. 

"That 's my great-great-Grandfather Dollivar. 
His name was Eliphalet. Is n't that a funny 
name ?" and Anne laughed. 

It was such a merry, contagious laugh that 


"Yes," said Anne. "You see all the Dollivars 
were soldiers, and all the Davenports ministers. 
Grandfather Dollivar was in the Civil War. He 
was a colonel with McClellan — he knew the most 
interesting war stories. He was wounded in two 
battles — Malvern Hill and Gettysburg. And 
that 's my great-great-Grandfather Davenport." 
She pointed to the oil-painting of a stately old 
gentleman beside the book-case. "He was chap- 
lain in the fort at Cherry Valley in Revolu- 
tionary times. When the Indians attacked the 
town, they killed most of the people, but some of 

Betty joined in sympathy. "Tell me about him," 
she said. 

"Open that cabinet, Betty," said Anne, "and 
get the little silver box on the second shelf." 

Betty took out the little round box, shaped like 
an old-fashioned snuff-box. "What is it?" she 
asked curiously. 

"Open it," said Anne. 

Betty removed the cover. The box was full of 
little rolls. "Why, it looks like tea," she ex- 

"It is tea," said Anne. "It 's Boston Harbor 




tea. Great-great-Grandfather Dollivar had been 
to a party that night and afterward, when they 
dressed up as Indians and went to the wharf — 
he wore his low shoes. When they emptied the 
tea into the harbor, so much was scattered around 
the deck that some of it got into great-great- 
Grandfather's shoes, and that 's it. It 's come 
down through the Dollivar family, till father 
gave it to me. You see he did n't have any boy 
to give it to." 

Betty touched the little rolls reverently, then 
she surveyed the austere old gentleman respect- 
fully, but could not imagine him a gay young fel- 
low dancing, or taking part in the Indian prank. 

"How awfully interesting," she said; "and how 
proud you must be to have such distinguished 
relatives. That must be the reason you like his- 
tory so well. Now I can never remember the 
dates." She thrust out her hands with a despair- 
ing gesture. "Do you know," she went on con- 
fidentially, "I 've always been afraid of you, 
you 're so awfully bright." 

"Afraid of me !" cried Anne in her soft little 

Betty nodded. 

"But you 're so pretty and funny, Betty. I 've 
always wanted to know you. Everybody loves 
you." There was a wistful tone in Anne's voice 
that went straight to Betty's sympathetic heart. 

"They '11 love you, too, Anne, when they get 
acquainted with you. You see I 've always lived 
here, and they 're used to me. Don't you like 
our school?" 

"It 's the first I 've ever been to," said Anne, 
"and it seemed strange at first, but I like it. I 
like the assembly and the songs and the flag sa- 
lute. Don't you love the flag?" 

"Why, of course," said Betty, somewhat puz- 
zled, "I think it 's the prettiest of any of the 

"I don't mean just that," said Anne. "Of 
course it 's beautiful, but it 's our flag, and it 
stands for so much. Father used to talk to me 
about it. I can't say just what I mean, but I feel 
it." Her pale face glowed as if lighted by an 
inward fire. "Won 't the closing be grand?" she 

Betty opened her lips eagerly, then closed them. 
She had been on the verge of proclaiming the 
honor that had been bestowed upon her, but 
something seemed to hold her back. It might 
sound like bragging. 

Just then Mrs. Dollivar came in bringing a 
silver tray with little cakes, and chocolate in the 
thinnest of old-fashioned cups. When, a little 
later, Betty rose to go, Anne whispered to her 
mother, who smiled and brought her a little box. 

Into this, Anne put some of the Boston tea and 
handed the box to Betty. 

"Oh, Anne, I could n't take it," said Betty. 

"Please do," said Anne. "See, I have plenty 

"Thank you, dear Anne, I '11 keep it always, 
and I '11 always think of your great-great-Grand- 
father Eliphalet running around on the tea-ship 
deck, with his tomahawk and feathers." She 
gave such a comical glance at the grave old gen- 
tleman that both Anne and her mother laughed. 

"Come again soon, my dear," said Mrs. Dolli- 
var at parting, then she bent to kiss the upturned 

"I will," said Betty, "I 've had the nicest kind 
of a time." 

Betty skipped along the country road, holding 
close her gift, and going over in her mind the 
events of the afternoon. What a quaint old 
house ! How lovely Mrs. Dollivar was, and how 
kind Anne had been ! And how wonderful to 
have such a relic for her very, very own. Betty 
stopped to take the cover from the box and re- 
garded with satisfaction the precious Boston tea. 
She would have so much to tell father. 

Then her thoughts turned to the closing and 
the delightful trip to Saltillo. She began to pic- 
ture the new dress. 

"I hope it will have four tucks," she solilo- 
quized, "and a wide bertha, short sleeves, and a 
long ribbon sash. I can just see it." She sighed 
blissfully. Then, in fancy, she saw herself on 
the stage before the crowded hall, holding the 
new flag. She could see just how they would all 
look, her schoolmates, Mrs. Cameron, and her 
father, all smiling at her. Into the pleasing 
vision came suddenly Anne Dollivar's face, but 
Anne was not looking at Betty. Her eyes were 
on the flag, and her face was shining, Betty 
seemed to hear her say again, "Don't you love 
the flag?" 

All at once, Betty stopped short in the winding 
road. A sudden and unwelcome suggestion had 
come to her like a swift arrow shaft. All the 
brightness went out of her face, and words burst 
hastily from her lips as though in answer to a 
spoken argument. 

"Oh, no! I could n't. It would n't be fair." 

Then she walked on, but her steps lagged. She 
tried to turn her thoughts to other things, but 
the idea was persistent, "Why not let Anne Dol- 
livar hold the flag at closing?" 

Betty broke into a run as if to out-distance the 
inward voice, but, "Why not let Anne hold the 
flag?" It was as distinct to her hearing as if 
some one had spoken it to her outward ear. 

"If Miss Ellwood had wanted Anne Dollivar 




to hold the flag, she would have asked her." 
Betty's tone was almost sharp. 

"But Miss Elwood does n't understand." "You 
could explain to her." "Think of what the flag 
means to Anne with her soldier ancestors and 
her training. It seems as if it were almost her 

"She would n't do it as well as I, besides — ' 
Betty's voice faltered — "She would n't look so 
pretty either." 

"But Anne is so lonely, and it would make her 
so happy." 

"She has a great deal more than I have," cried 
Betty ; but the inward voice was inexorable, 
quoting Anne's very words: "Everybody loves 
you, Betty." 

Give up the trip to Saltillo ! Give up the 
honor of closing night ! 

"I can't; I won't!" said Betty, and her voice 
was almost a sob. 

"Would Anne do it for you ?" 

Betty had recognized the unselfishness of 
Anne's nature, and now her innate justice and 
love of truth forced the reluctant answer from 
her. Anne would do it for her. Betty sank down 
by the roadside, a limp, miserable little heap. 

"I don't care ! I shan't give it up ! Miss El- 
wood asked me, and it 's my right. I can't help 
it if Anne Dollivar has twenty dozen soldiers in 
her family. I wish I 'd never gone there. It 's 
just too mean. I won't, I won't, I won't!" and 
with each repetition, Betty set her lips still more 

Even to much older persons and after long 
training, unselfishness is not always easy when 
something earnestly longed for has to be given 
up. It means a struggle for the mastery. So it is 
no wonder that a battle went on in Betty's heart. 

As she arose to go she almost bumped into lit- 
tle Susie Shelton, who though always polite and 
daintily dressed was so shy that she hardly ever 
dared to look her schoolmates in the face, and 
was known among them as "Bashful Sue." With 
a timid "Good morning, Betty," she hastened by, 
while Betty said to herself, "I wish I were as 
bashful as poor little Susie, for then I would n't 
even want to hold the flag!" 

When she reached home, she ran quickly up- 
stairs and thrust the box of Boston tea into the 
remotest corner of the lowest bureau drawer. 
At supper she tried to act as if nothing were the 
matter, but in spite of her efforts, her. speech was 
brief and her manner unnatural, for continually 
in her ears kept sounding, now pleading, now 
peremptory, but always persistent, "Let Anne 
hold the flag. Let Anne hold the flag." 

Her father glanced at her curiously once or 

twice, but forebore to question, satisfied that in 
due time Betty would come to him with whatever 
was troubling her. 

After tea she picked up a book and tried to 
read, but even her beloved "Eight Cousins" failed 
to distract her thoughts; Anne's face looked out 
from- every page and the letters danced before 
her eyes, forming themselves into "Let Anne 
hold the flag. Let Anne hold the flag." 

Betty threw down the book, unable to endure 
the strife longer. She would go into father's 

office and tell him all 
about it. She ran 
across the hall, but 
stopped disappointed 
on the threshold, 
hearing voices. Mr. 
Anderson had come 
in for a game of 
chess, so all hopes of 
an interview were at 
an end. 

She reluctantly 
climbed the stair- 
way to her room and 
slowly made ready 
for bed. From the 
oval frame at its foot, 
the face of her moth- 
er looked out at her, 
that sweet, girlish 
mother whom she 
could not remember, yet whose face was so like 
her own. To-night, the brown eyes seemed to be 
following her with a sad expression. 

"She thinks I 'm selfish," said Betty with a 
lump in her throat ; but in the same breath, she 
added, "I can't give it up." 

She turned out the gas and crept into bed. 
Here she tossed and turned restlessly for a time, 
but, at last worn out by the turmoil of her heart, 
fell asleep. 

She awakened suddenly. The moonlight was 
streaming in at the window, silvering the differ- 
ent objects in the room. For a moment, Betty 
lay wondering, then gradually the trouble of the 
night before came back. She rose and went to 
the window, where she sank down with her head 
on the sill. The lace-like patterns of the locust 
leaves quivered on the white wall of the cottage, 
and the faint, sweet scent of the violets was 
wafted upward. High in the heavens rode the 
moon, shedding its silvery radiance over all. In 
all the wide, sweet world, Betty felt that she only 
was an alien. 

Suddenly she laid down her head, bursting into 
a passion of tears. "I am selfish," she cried, 





"but I won't be any longer, I will tell Miss El- 
wood, and I will let Anne hold the flag." 

She sobbed on in the moonlight, but somehow, 
with the tears, all the bitterness seemed to van- 
ish, and a great longing to be always true, help- 
ful, and unselfish swelled up in her heart. The 
peace of the night seemed to settle upon her. As 
she crept into bed once more, the moonlight fell 
softly on her mother's picture, and Betty lay 
watching it with a smile on her lips. A few min- 
utes later, she fell asleep, and the smile still lin- 

Early next morning, she was awakened by the 
catbird on the lilac-tree near her window. 
"There 's Freddie Hammond," she cried merrily. 

Then she sprang out of bed and ran quickly to 
the bureau. Here from the remotest corner of 
the bottom drawer, she drew out the box of Bos- 
ton tea, raised the lid and glanced anxiously 
within. She dressed hastily, then danced down- 
stairs and out into the fresh, sweet morning. She 
whistled to the collie, and away they flew around 
the garden paths and down the winding drive. 
Betty brought up at the porch* again, rosy and 
breathless, and Laddie dropped panting at her 

At the breakfast-table, she was bubbling over 
with gaiety. She gave an animated description 
of the Dollivar family portraits, produced the 
Boston tea and, with irresistible mischief, pic- 
tured the grave Eliphalet prancing around the 
tea-ship deck. Even Mrs. Cameron was moved 
to mirth, and Dr. Buford smiled, rejoicing that 
all was well once more. 

When Sam drove around to the door, Dr. Bu- 
ford turned to Betty with mock ceremony : "Dr. 
Buford has a call to make up the River Road, and 
if Miss Buford is agreeable, he will be pleased to 
have her company as far as the school-house." 

"Miss Buford accepts with pleasure," cried 
Betty. "Just wait till I get my hat, Daddy." 

"How about Saturday for our trip ?" inquired 
the doctor, as they were slowly climbing Halli- 
day's Hill. 

Betty's face grew suddenly sober. "I won't 
have to have a new dress, Father, for I 've de- 
cided I won't hold the flag." 

"Not hold the flag!" said her father in amaze- 
ment. "Why, what — ?" then he waited. 

"You see, Daddy," explained Betty, "somehow 
it did n't seem fair when all Anne's relatives 
were soldiers and she loves the flag so. I felt 
like a mean, selfish girl. I know Miss Elwood 
will change, and Anne will never know. I 'm so 
glad I did n't tell her. I really don't care so 
much about holding it, I mean," she added truth- 
fully, "I don't care so much as I did." 

"So this was what was troubling my daugh- 
ter?" The doctor's tone was tender. 

"Oh, Daddy," said Betty, "I was so miserable. 
At first, it did n't seem as if I could give it up, 
and I felt just hateful and horrid; and now, I 
honestly want Anne to do it. I begin to see a 
little what she meant about the flag, and some- 
how I feel as if, perhaps, I may be doing a little 
for it." Betty's tone was wistful. 

Her father drew her close. "You are, Betty. 
I 'd rather have my daughter learn the spirit of 
sacrifice, than have all the honorof closing night." 

"Maybe," Betty smiled pathetically, "maybe I 
can persuade Mrs. Cameron to put in that tuck." 

"If she does n't," said the doctor emphatically, 
"I '11 do it myself." 

At this little joke, Betty burst into a merry 
laugh. "Then I could n't go at all," she ex- 
claimed roguishly. 

Miss Elwood listened attentively to Betty's 
plea, but, at the close, merely said quietly, "Very 
well, Betty, it shall be as you wish. I 'm sure 
Anne will do it nicely ; I will go to see Mrs. Dol- 
livar to-night." But as her gray eyes met Betty's 
brown ones, something in their expression told 
Betty that she was not displeased. 

The gray eyes followed Betty as she walked 
briskly down the hall, "Bless her unselfish little 
heart!" said Miss Elwood. 

The next day was Saturday, and Betty was in 
the garden picking violets, when the sound of 
wheels made her turn — it was Anne Dollivar in 
her pony carriage driving in at the gate. Betty 
ran to meet her. 

Anne's eyes were sparkling and her voice was 
trembling with eagerness. "Oh, Betty," she 
cried, "I 've something to tell you. I could n't 
wait, and my ankle is so much better that mother 
said James might drive me over. Miss Elwood 
has been to see mother, and, what do you think? 
— mother has such a beautiful plan. You and I 
are going to hold the flag at closing. Mother 's 
going to dress us in old-fashioned gowns. I 'm 
going to be 'The Spirit of '76' and you 're to be 
'The Spirit of '61.' You 're going to have the 
dearest white dress, low neck, with a lovely fichu. 
There are some little high-heeled shoes, and 
you 're going to have your hair parted and coiled 
in your neck, just as they wore it then, with some 
rosebuds drooping at the side. It 's one of 
Grandma Dollivar's wedding dresses. And I 'm 
going to have my hair powdered and — why, 
Betty, you 're crying! Are n't you glad? I 
thought you 'd be pleased." She looked up timidly. 

Betty threw her arms around Anne's neck. 
"Yes, I am glad, Anne, I 'm only crying because 
I 'm so happy." 




William 1- y«» 'ft«iurs?" 



nisrorao BOYHOODS. 


m - m m 


It was mid-afternoon on July 3, 1778. A group 
of a dozen boys sat in the long grass that grew 
close down to the banks of the narrow, twisting 
Conestoga River, in eastern Pennsylvania. All 
of the boys were hard at work engaged in a 
mysterious occupation. By the side of one of 
them lay a great pile of narrow pasteboard tubes, 
each about two feet long, and in front of this 
same small boy stood a keg filled with what 
looked like black sand. Each of the group was 
busy working with one of the pasteboard tubes, 
stopping one end tightly with paper, and then 
pouring in handfuls of the "sand" from the keg, 
and from time to time dropping small col- 
ored balls into the tubes at various layers of the 
sand. These balls came from a box that was 
guarded by the same boy who had charge of the 
tubes and the keg, and he dealt them out to the 
others with continual words of caution. 

"Be very careful of that one, George," he said, 
handing him one of the colored balls, "those red 
ones were very hard to make, and I have n't 
many of them, but they '11 burn splendidly, and 
make a great show when they go oft." 

"How do you stop the candle when all the balls 
and powder are in, Rob?" asked another boy. 

"See, this way," said the young instructor, 
and he slipped a short fuse into the tube and 
fastened the end with paper and a piece of twine. 

"There 's something '11 let folks know to-mor- 
row 's the Fourth of July," he added proudly, as 
he laid the rocket beside the keg of powder. 

"What made you think of them, Rob?" asked 
one of the boys, looking admiringly at the lad of 
fourteen who had just spoken. 

"I knew something had to be done," said Rob- 
ert, "as soon as I heard they were n't going to let 
us burn any candles to-morrow night 'cause can- 
dles were so scarce. I knew we had to do some- 
thing to show how proud we were that they had 
signed the Declaration of Independence two 
years ago, and so I thought things over last night 

and worked out a way of making these rockets. 
They '11 be much grander than last year's candle 
parade. They would n't let us light the streets, 
so we '11 light the skies." 

"I wish the Britishers could see them!" said 
one of the group; and another added: "I wish 

General Washington could be in Lancaster to- 
morrow night !" 

Just before the warm sun dropped behind the 
tops of the walnut-grove beyond the river the 
work was done, and a great pile of rockets lay 
on the grass. Then, as though moved by one 




impulse, all the boys stripped off their clothes Rob ; I 've never known such a boy for making 
and plunged into the cool pool of the river where things. His schoolmaster told me the other day 
it made a great circle under 

the maples. They had all been 
born and brought up near the 
winding Conestoga, and had 
fished in it and swam in it 
ever since they could remem- 

The next evening the boys 
of Lancaster sprang a surprise 
on that quiet but patriotic 
town. The authorities had 
forbidden the burning of can- 
dles on account of the scarcity 
caused by the War of Inde- 
pendence, and every one ex- 
pected that second Fourth of 
July to pass off as quietly as 
any other day. But at dusk 
all the boys gathered at Rob 
Fulton's house, just outside 
town, and as soon as it was 
really dark proceeded to the 
town square, their arms full 
of mysterious packages. It 
took only a few minutes to 
gather enough wood in the 
center of the square for a gi- 
gantic bonfire, and when all 
the people of Lancaster were 
drawn into the square by the 
blaze, the boys started their 
display of fireworks. The 
astonished people heard one 
dull thudding report after an- 
other, saw a ball of colored 
fire flaming high in the air, 
then a burst of myriad sparks 
and a rain of stars. They 
were not used to seeing sky- 
rockets, most of them had 
never heard that there were 
such things, but they were de- 
lighted with them, and hur- 
rahed and cheered at each 
fresh burst. This was indeed a great surprise. 

"What are they? Where did they come from? 
How did the boys get them ?" were the questions 
that went through the watching crowds, and it 
was not long before the answer traveled from 
mouth to mouth : "It 's one of Rob Fulton's in- 
ventions. He read about making them in some 

The father of one of Robert's friends nodded 
his head when he heard this news, and said to 
his wife: "I might have known it was young 


that when he was only ten he made his own lead- 
pencils, picking up any bits of sheet lead which 
happened to come his way, and hammering the 
lead out of them and making pencils that were 
as good as any in the school." 

The fireworks were a great success; for the 
better part of an hour they held the attention of 
Lancaster, and when the last rocket had shot 
out its stars every boy there felt that the Fourth 
of July had been splendidly kept. For a day or 
two Rob Fulton was an important personage, 




then he dropped back into the ranks with his 
schoolmates again. 

It was not long after, however, that Robert set 
himself to work out another problem. The Ful- 
tons lived near the Conestoga, and Robert and his 
younger brothers were very fond of fishing. All 
they had to fish from was a light raft which they 
had built the summer before, and this cumber- 
some craft they had to pole from place to place. 
When they wanted to fish some distance down 
from their farm-house, they had to spend most 
of the afternoon poling, and this heavy labor 
robbed the sport of half its charm. So, a week 
or two after the Fourth of July, Robert told a 
couple of boy friends that he was going to make 
a boat of his own, and got them to help him col- 
lect the materials he needed. He liked mystery, 
and told them to tell no one of his plans. As soon 
as school was over the three conspirators would 
steal away to the riverside, and there hammer 
and saw and plane to their heart's content. 
Gradually the boat took shape under their hands, 
and after about ten days' work a small, light 
skiff, with two paddle-wheels joined by a bar 
and crank, was ready to be launched. The idea 
was that a boy standing in the middle of the skiff 
could make both wheels revolve by turning the 
crank, and it only needed another boy holding an 
oar in a crotch at the stern to steer the craft 
wherever he wanted it to go. Yet, even when 
the boat was finished, the two other boys were 
very doubtful whether such a strange-looking 
object would really work. Robert himself had 
no doubts upon that score, he had worked the 
whole plan out before he had chosen the first 

The miniature side-paddle river-boat was 
christened the George Washington and launched 
in a still reach of the Conestoga. It was an ex- 
citing moment when Robert laid hands on the 
crank and started the two wheels. They turned 
easily and the boat pulled steadily out from shore, 
and at a twist from the steering-oar headed 
down-stream. It was a proud moment for the 
young inventor. As they went down the river 
and passed people on the banks, he could not help 
laughing as he saw the surprise on their faces. 
Fishing became better sport than ever when one 
had a boat of this sort to take one up- or down- 
stream. Very little effort sent the paddles a long 
way, and there were always boys who were eager 
to take a turn at the crank. The Lancaster 
schoolmaster heard of the boat, and said to a 
friend: "Take my word for it, the world 's going 
to hear from Rob Fulton some of these days. He 
can't help turning old goods to new uses. And 
he does n't know what it means to be discour- 

aged. I met him the afternoon of the third of 
July and he told me that he was going to make 
some rockets, and I said I thought he would find 
such a task impossible. 'No sir,' says Robert to 
me, 'I don't think so. I don't think anything 's 
impossible if you make up your mind to do it.' 
That 's the sort of boy he is !" 

A large number of Hessian troops were quar- 
tered near the Conestoga, and the Lancaster boys 
thought a great deal about the War for Inde- 
pendence, as was natural when the fathers and 
brothers of most of them were fighting in it. 
Such thoughts soon turned Rob Fulton's mind to 
making firearms, and as soon as his boat had 
proved itself successful, he planned a new type of 
gun, and supplied some Lancaster gunsmiths with 
complete drawings for the whole, — stock, lock, 
and barrel, — and made estimates of range that 
were fully verified when the gun was finished. 

At this time in his boyhood it was hard to say 
whether the young Fulton was more the inventor 
or the artist, but as soon as the war ended he de- 
cided that he would become a painter, and went 
to Philadelphia, then the chief city of the new 
nation, to study his art. He made enough money 
by the use of his pencil and by making drawings 
for machinists, to support himself, and also saved 
enough money to buy a small "farm for his wid- 
owed mother and younger brothers and sisters. 

Benjamin West, the great painter, had lived 
near Lancaster, and had heard much of Robert 
Fulton's boyhood inventions, and he now hunted 
him out in Philadelphia, and helped him in his 
new line of work. The young artist met Benja- 
min Franklin and found him eager to further his 
plans, and so, by dint of his perseverance and 
the friends he was fortunate enough to make, he 
laid the foundations for his future. 

When he became a man, the spirit of the in- 
ventor finally overcame that of the painter. He 
went abroad and studied in laboratories in Eng- 
land and France, and then he came home and 
built a workshop of his own. What particularly 
interested him was the uses to which steam might 
be applied, and he studied its possibilities until 
he had worked out his plans for a practical 
steamboat. How successful those plans were all 
the world knows. It was a great day when the 
crowds that lined the Hudson River saw the 
Clermont prove that the era of sailing vessels 
had closed, and that of steamships had dawned. 
But to the boys who had lived along the Cones- 
toga it did not seem strange that Robert Fulton 
had won fame as an inventor ; they had known he 
could make anything he chose since that second 
Fourth of July when he had come to his country's 
rescue with his home-made sky-rockets. 



Chapter XIII 


The next morning they started the work of 
transforming the Pup from a black-and-tan — I 
am using Chub's expression — to a fox-terrier. 
They loaded a good-sized rock into the rowboat 
and from there lifted it over the side of the 
launch and placed it on the starboard seat. But 
as it did n't raise the other side of the Pup high 
enough out of the water Chub was delegated to 
join the rock. With Chub perched on the coam- 
ing all was ready for the painters. So Dick and 
Roy at once began work — Chub in the Pup 
and Dick and Roy in the rowboat. At first it was 
lots of fun, but presently their wrists began to 
ache, while, to add discouragement, they discov- 
ered that it would be necessary to put on at least 
two coats to hide the black paint beneath. Chub 
began to show signs of mutiny about eleven 
o'clock and wanted to go ashore. He declared 
that he would perish of ennui and that he was 
getting a headache and a backache, and that if the 
others thought it was fun sitting there on that 
edge they might come and try it themselves. 
However, he was prevailed on to continue in ser- 
vice a few minutes longer, and at half-past eleven 
the Pup was painted with one coat of white from 
bow to stern on the port side. Then all hands 
were quite ready to quit work, Roy declaring that 
for his. part he wished they had n't begun. 

"There 's three days' more work on her," he 
grumbled, "for she '11 have to have two coats." 

"Tell you what we might do, though," said 
Chub. "We might put another coat on this side 
and let her go. I think it would be original and 
sporty to have one side black and the other side 

Dick said he was an idiot, and Roy indorsed 
the sentiment heartily, and good nature was not 
restored until they had donned their bathing- 
suits and were splashing around in the water off 
Inner Beach. 

After dinner Roy went after Harry, while 
Dick armed himself with pot and brush and went 
back to work, and after looking on for awhile 
Chub was forced to join him. 

In half an hour Roy had returned with Harry 
and the two watched the others work. 

"There 's another brush, Roy," said Dick, "but 
you need n't help unless you want to. 

"Huh," said Roy, "you know plagued well I 

can't sit here in the shade and see you fellows 
working out there. If I get sunstruck, like Billy 
Warren in the boat-race, you il be sorry enough, 
I guess." 

Dick had discovered that the first coat of white 
had dried sufficiently to allow of a second and so 
before supper-time they had finished the port side 
of the hull. And very nice it looked, too ; until 
you got a glimpse of the other side ! 

"It 's like having two boats," said Chub cheer- 
fully, wiping the paint from his hands to his 
trousers. "If it was mine I "d put one name on 
one side and another name on the other. For 
instance, Dick; you could call the white boat Pup 
and the black boat Kit." 

"They might fight," said Harry, who was com- 
fortably settled in the shade on shore. "Just sup- 
posing the Pup began chasing the Kit, Dick !" 

"It would be a stern chase," said. Chub. 

The next day was Flag Day at Camp Toroha- 
dik. In the morning they sailed' down to Silver 
Cove in the Pup, the paint having; fulfilled the 
promise of its maker and dried overnight, and 
got their flags. There was a nice r£d-white-and- 
blue yachting design for the stern and an owner's 
flag for the bow. The latter consisted of a 
white ground with a blue Mercury's foot on it, 
a design suggested by Roy in allusion to Dick's 
prowess on the cinder-path. The poles were 
each finished off with a brass ball, and when 
poles and flags were set the Pup looked very gay 
and jaunty. 

Harry, who had been at work spasmodically on 
the camp banner, produced the completed article 
that afternoon, and after their return to the island 
Roy used the rest of a small can of black paint and 
lettered the long strip of white cotton cloth which 
Harry had brought with the inscription : CAMP 
TOROHADIK. Then it was bent to the hal- 
yards and with Chub, at popular request, singing 
"The Star-Spangled Banner" it was hoisted into 
place and for the rest of their stay flew proudly 
by day above the camp. (The truth is that it 
also flew occasionally by night ; but it was n't 
supposed to, of course, and any fellow is likely 
to forget things now and then, and so we won't 
mention it save parenthetically.) 

Taken all in all, that was a busy and eventful 
day on Fox Island. For late in the afternoon, 
shortly after they had returned from a six-mile 
trip up the river in the Pup (it having been 
decided to postpone painting until next day) 




and just as Dick was getting ready to take 
Harry home, there was a hail from the water 
and they ran to the point to discover Doctor 
Emery paddling toward them in a canoe. Harry 
at once decided that she was wanted at home and 


was busily lamenting her fate when the Doctor 
announced cheerfully that he had come to visit 
the camp and take supper. Mrs. Emery, he ex- 
plained as the boys drew his canoe up on the 
beach, had gone to the Cove to spend the after- 
noon and evening, and he had decided to beg hos- 
pitality of the campers. The campers declared 
with enthusiasm that they were awfully glad to 
see him, and that supper would be ready in about 
half an hour, and that they were going to have 
fricasseed beef, and that fricasseed beef was the 

best thing their chef did, and — oh, lots more be- 
sides, every one talking at once ! The Doctor 
could have had no doubt of his welcome. Pres- 
ently it developed that he was lamentably ignor- 
ant of his island; and so he was personally 
conducted around by Harrv and 

"If I owned an island," said 
Harry, "I guess I 'd know 
every inch of it ! I 'd just 
love to have an island all my 
own, too ! Would n't you, 
Chub ?" 

"I should say I would ! One 
away off from everywhere, 
you know. I 'd live on it, and 
I would n't let any one on it 
that I did n't like." 

"Would n't that be lovely!" 
cried Harry. "Still, you 

would n't want it so far off 
that you could n't get to land 
sometimes, would you ? Sup- 
pose you needed things to eat?" 
"Oh, I 'd keep plenty on 
hand," answered Chub. 

"Well I think an island like 
this is pretty nice," said Harry. 
"But you boys can do the camp- 
ing out. I like to go home at 
night." And she stole her hand 
into her father's. 

"Then you think this one 

would suit, do you?" asked the 

Doctor smilingly, and Harry 

nodded ready assent. When 

they reached the farther end 

of the domain Harry pointed 

out Point Harriet very proudly 

and the Doctor was properly 

impressed. Then they kept on 

past The Grapes, ascended 

Hood's Hill, ran down the 

other side and — came plump 

upon Billy Noon in the act of 

jabbing a knife-blade into the 

lid of a can. His fire was already lighted and a 

few cooking utensils were scattered around him. 

"It 's the Licensed Poet !" cried Harry. 

Billy turned suddenly at sound of the voice, 

dropped can and knife, and whipped his right 

hand quickly behind him. Then he recognized 

his visitors and laughed apologetically. 

"I did n't hear you coming," he explained. He 
greeted Harry with a gallant bow, expressed his 
pleasure at meeting the Doctor again, and nodded 
to Chub. "You find me immersed in household 




duties," he went on lightly. "I was just about to 
prepare my frugal repast." As there was noth- 
ing edible in sight save bread, butter, and the 
contents of the tin can, the others thought the 
adjective well chosen. 

"Well, don't let us disturb you," said the Doc- 
tor. He glanced about the beach and the under- 
brush. "But you surely don't sleep here without 
any cover?" he asked. 

"No, I sleep aboard the boat," answered Billy, 
nodding to the Minerva, which rocked gently in 
the current with her nose imbedded in the sand. 
"She 's not very large, but I manage to keep 
pretty comfortable in her. I cook on board, too, 
sometimes, but when it 's possible I like to build 
my fire outdoors. Perhaps you 'd like to see my 
private yacht?" he added smilingly. The Doctor 
hesitated, but Harry was already scrambling 
over the bow, and so the others followed. There 
was n't much to see ; just the tiny cockpit and, 
beyond, a rather dim cabin lighted by the sun 
which streamed through a few round ports. 
There was a bunk on one side, made ready for 
the night, a small stove at the apex of the space 
and, on the other side, a bench. There was a 
small clock above the stove, a few hooks which 
held clothing, a wash-basin and bucket of water, 
a few books on a small shelf, a pair of shoes and 
a valise under the bunk, and some cooking things 
in a tiny cupboard above the bench. 

The middle of the cabin was taken up by the 
center-board and the Poet pointed out a shelf which 
was made to fit over the center-board box and 
serve as a table. But there was one other thing 
which aroused Chub's curiosity. On the bench 
just where the light from the hatchway fell upon 
it, was a pocket map spread out. Thinking that 
it was a sailing chart, Chub leaned over to ex- 
amine it. It proved, however, to be a map of the 
country thereabouts, and the words Silver Cove 
stared him in the face. The map had been ruled 
with pencil into squares about half an inch each 
way and many of these squares had been filled in 
with pencil strokes until the map around the 
words Silver Cove was checkered with dark 
spaces. Chub had time to see no more, for Billy 
Noon reached past him and, taking the map, 
deftly folded it and tossed it carelessly on top of 
the few books, inviting them to be seated. But 
they had seen all there was to be seen and so they 
filed out on to deck again, Harry declaring ecstat- 
ically that it must be beautiful to live in a boat, 
and asking Billy how he managed to sail it when 
he was asleep. 

She and Chub found themselves back on the 
sand before the others and she seized the oppor- 
tunity to whisper hurriedly in Chub's ear. 

"Let 's ask him to supper," she said. "Shall 
we?" And seeing his hesitation, she added: 
"Why, he has n't a thing to eat ! Just look, 
Chub!" And Chub looked and relented. 

And so the License.d Poet was invited and he 
accepted instantly. They waited while he gath- 
ered his few things together and returned them 
to the Minerva, closing and locking the hatch 
after him. Then he drew on his coat and the 
four went on. Presently Chub found himself 
walking beside Billy, Harry and her father hav- 
ing lost ground because it was necessary that the 
former should see the view from Gull Point. 

"I say," asked Chub suddenly, "what were you 
reaching for when we came up ?" 

Billy darted a swift glance at him. Then he 
answered : 

"My handkerchief. I 'd been making the fire 
and my hands were n't very clean, you know." 

"Do you carry your handkerchief in your hip 
pocket ?" asked Chub skeptically. 

"When I have n't my coat on," replied the 
other. "I should n't wonder if it 's there yet; 
I don't think I 've taken it out. Yes, here it is." 
And he reached back to his hip pocket and drew 
it forth. 

"Oh," said Chub, looking a little foolish. "I 
thought — " He hesitated. 

"You thought," said Billy, his blue eyes spark- 
ling with good-natured raillery, "that I was go- 
ing to 'pull a gun' and blow holes in you. 
Was n't that it?" 

"Well, it looked as though you were reaching 
for a revolver." 

"Did it? You 're too suspicious," laughed the 
other. "I '11 confess you startled me, but I 'm a 
more peaceable chap than you give me credit for 
being." There was a moment's silence. Then 
Billy laughed softly. "Do you know what I was 
doing when you folks came along?" 

Chub shook his head. 

"I was just going to open that can of mush- 
rooms," answered Billy. "I 'd had a pretty suc- 
cessful day and thought that now was my chance 
to celebrate." 

"Did you sell some books?" Chub asked. 

"Well, something of that sort. I found a cus- 
tomer, in fact, two or three of them. But I guess 
those mushrooms bear a charmed life. Just as 
I 'm going to stick my knife through the lid you 
come along and ask me to supper, and back go 
the mushrooms to the store-room. It 's funny, 
is n't it ? That 's the second time I 've almost 
had them opened." 

"Maybe the third time will be successful," 
laughed Chub. 

Supper was late that evening, for Dick had three 




extra persons to provide for, and it was incum- 
bent, besides, to set a rather more elaborate re- 
past than usual. But when it was ready lit 
proved to be well worth waiting for, and the 
fricassee of beef was delicious. Dick had 
learned the trick from a ranch cook out West. 
The ranch cook used to call it "frigasy de boof," 
but he made it much better than he pronounced it. 
After supper Billy Noon and the Doctor got into 
a spirited discussion on the subject of Early 
Elizabethan Drama, a subject which did n't 
greatly interest the others after the first ten 
minutes. But taken in connection with one thing 
and another, including the marked map seen in 
the cabin, Billy Noon's knowledge of the subject 
in discussion set the boys wondering harder than 
ever that night after the guests had taken their 

"Of course he is n't a book agent," snorted 
Chub contemptuously. "And what 's more, he 
is n't staying around here for any good. I '11 just 
bet he was going to pull out a revolver this after- 
noon, even if he did have a handkerchief there!" 

But Roy and Dick were n't willing to go so far 
as to suspect the Licensed Poet of wrong inten- 

"Maybe he is n't a book agent," allowed Dick, 
"but that does n't mean that he 's a — a pirate or a 
'bad man.' " 

"Pirate!" answered Chub. "Who said any- 
thing about pirates? He might be looking 
around the country to see what was worth swip- 
ing, might n't he ?" 

"A burglar? Pshaw," said Roy, "you 're 
daffy ! Why, any one could see he 's too much 
of a gentleman for that. Besides, you Sherlock 
Holmes, burglars don't take all that trouble. They 
just go and find out where there 's stuff worth 
stealing and steal it. Why, he 'd starve to death 
before he got anything!" 

"Well, then, what — " began Chub stubbornly. 

"Bless you, I don't know," yawned Roy. "But 
he 's no burglar; I '11 wager anything on that." 

"He swined our butter and our bread," said 

"Shucks! That was just a sort of joke. Look 
at the way he talked back at the Doctor about 
those old play-writers ! Think burglars know 
about — what was it, Dick?" 

"Early Elizabethan Dramas," answered Dick. 

"Some might," answered Chub, warming to the 
argument. "Look at that fellow in the book." 

"Raffles? Pshaw, that was just fiction; I 'm 
talking about real burglars." 

"Well, it 's mighty funny," grunted Chub. 
"And I think we ought to ask him point-blank 
what he 's up to." 
Vol. XXXV.— 99. 

"That would be polite !" scoffed Dick. "Why, 
we would n't do that to a 'greaser' out West. 
You have n't any sense of hospitality; and you 're 
too suspicious, besides." 

"That 's what he said," murmured Chub. 

"And he was right. The idea of accusing him 
of going to shoot you!" 

"I did n't ! I just meant that he was feeling 
for a revolver, as if he was scared. I did n't 
think he meant to shoot us." 

"Same thing," said Roy. "Men don't carry re- 
volvers in their pockets if they 're all right." 

"That 's what I 'm saying," answered Chub 

"But you don't know he had a revolver there," 
said Roy. "He said it was a handkerchief he 
was after, and he showed it to you." 

"Yes, but he might have had a revolver there 
too, might n't he ? Besides, I don't know that he 
did n't put the handkerchief there after he got 
into his coat. I was n't watching him." 

"You ought to have been," said Roy severely. 
Chub grunted. Then he returned to the argu- 

"What 's that map for, then?" he demanded. 

"Maybe he 's employed by the Government to 
make — observations," suggested Dick vaguely. 
"They do that." 

"Oh, Jehoshaphat !" said Chub. "You fellows 
make me tired. I 'm going to bed." 

"Guess we 'd all better go," said Dick, yawn- 
ing. "If we 're going to finish painting that boat 
to-morrow we want to get to work before the 
sun 's very hot." 

Chub and Roy groaned in unison. 

But they did n't paint the boat the next day, as 
it happened ; nor for many days afterward. For 
when they awoke in the morning it was raining 
hard and by the time breakfast was over with it 
had settled down into a regular torrent. Going 
for Harry was quite out of the question. They 
passed the morning as best they could, remain- 
ing, for the most part, in the tent. They were 
glad enough for the ditch which surrounded them, 
for if it had n't been there they 'd have had to sit 
in water. Even as it was little rivulets crept 
over the banks of the ditch and meandered across 
the floor. Roy was the only one of the three who 
was n't thoroughly bored by the middle of the 
afternoon. He was at work on a new map of the 
island, becoming so absorbed in the task of trac- 
ing his lines on the big sheet of paper he had 
purchased for the purpose that he forgot all about 
the weather. Once it became necessary to verify 
a portion of his map, and he donned his thickest 
sweater and went around to Turtle Point, un- 
heeding the ridicule of the others. By supper- 




time he had finished it, and although there were 
many criticisms offered he was very proud of it. 

After supper Billy Noon came over to visit 
them, and they were heartily glad to see him. 
There was no camp-fire that night, for they had 
thoughtlessly left their store of wood exposed 
and there was n't enough dry fuel except what 
was needed for the stove, to make any kind of a 
blaze. Billy was in the best of spirits and this 
affected the spirits of the others favorably. He 
shed a yellow oilskin coat and hung it from a 
tent-pole under the single flickering lantern. 

"Well, how goes it to-night, boys?" he asked. 

"Oh, we 've been bored to death all day," an- 
swered Dick. "I never saw such weather!" 

"Oh, I don't know," said Billy. "I like a day 
like this once in awhile. I like to get out and 
feel the rain. Where 's Miss Emery to-night?" 

They explained that the weather had been too 
bad for her to come. 

"I see," said Billy. "Well, what have you been 
doing to pass the time?" 

"Reading," sighed Dick, "and playing two- 
handed euchre. Roy has been making a silly old 
map all day and would n't say a word. Show him 
your map, Roy." 

Roy did so and Billy praised it highly. 

"You 're a genuine chartographer, are n't 
you?" he said. 

"Gee, Chub," laughed Dick. "We called him 
everything else, but we never thought of that, did 

But Chub only grunted. Ever since Billy's en- 
trance he had been sitting silent, watching the 
visitor as a cat watches a mouse. Roy kicked his 
shins once when Billy was n't looking and begged 
him not to be a silly fool, but Chub only 
looked wise and frowned. Soon Billy was telling 
stories, some warranted strictly true and some 
frankly impossible, but all interesting. The boys 
forgot their low spirits and laughed and ap- 
plauded and begged for more. All save Chub. 
Chub sat and watched, soberly, like an avenging 
Fate. From tales Billy passed to ventriloquism 
and held an animated conversation with a man 
named Bill Jones who was presumably sitting 
astride the ridge-pole and doubtless getting very 

"Gee !" said Dick admiringly. "I wish I could 
do that ! Could n't you teach me ?" 

"If there was time enough," answered Billy. 
"But I 'm going on in a week or so, and as it took 
me two months to learn what I know about it I 
guess it would n't be worth while starting to teach 
you. It 's just a trick of the voice, but it takes a 
lot of practice. Now I '11 hold a key in my teeth. 
Professionals pretend that that 's a difficult stunt, 

but as a matter of fact it is n't anything a all, 
because you keep your mouth still anyway." 

"Were you ever on the stage?" asked Roy 

Billy shook his head. 

"Not regularly," he answered. "I did ventrilo- 
quism and sleight-of-hand tricks once for three 

"Oh, can you do tricks, too?" cried Dick. 

"A few," replied Billy modestly. "I 'm rather 
out of practice, I 'm afraid. You 've got to work 
every day to keep your muscles limber or you 're 
not much good. I '11 try a few card tricks, if you 

So the cards were produced, and for the next 
quarter of an hour Billy Noon had Dick's eyes 
popping out of his head. Chub still glowered, but 
it was noticeable that he leaned forward now and 
then and seemed pretty well interested in the 
Licensed Poet's dexterous fingers. Then Billy 
did some palming tricks with, first, a coin and, 
afterward, a tennis-ball which Roy happened to 

"Now," said Billy, "to conclude the entertain- 
ment, ladies and gentlemen, I will ask one of you 
to kindly step upon the platform and lend me a 
moment's assistance." Billy arose and looked 
over the tent as he drew back his coat sleeves. 
"Thank you, sir," he said, smiling professionally 
at Roy, "you will do nicely. I can see that it will 
be very hard to deceive you, sir. You will ob- 
serve, ladies and gentlemen, that I have nothing 
up my sleeves, nothing in my hands." He turned 
his palms out and back quickly. "Now I should 
like to borrow a silk hat from some member of 
the audience." Dick and Roy were chuckling 
merrily. "Or failing that — let me see, ah, that 
cap on the bunk will do nicely. Thank you, sir." 
And Billy bowed impressively as Dick handed 
him his cap. "And now may I have a handker- 
chief, if you please?" 

That proved a rather embarrassing request, 
and in the end Roy had to go to his suit-case and 
dig out a clean one from the bottom of the con- 
fusion therein. Billy took it with a flourish. 

"Now, sir, if you will kindly stand here." He. 
placed Roy beside him, facing the "audience." 
Roy grinned steadily and watched Billy as though 
he feared the latter was going to make him disap- 

"In doing these tricks," said Billy, rolling the 
handkerchief between his palms, "it is necessary 
to demand of the audience the very closest atten- 
tion. So I will ask you to keep your eyes on me 
very carefully, ve-e-ry carefully, because I might 
do something that you did n't see, and I would n't 
want to do that, believe me. I always take my 




audiences into my confidence, and if anything 
transpires here this evening which you do not 
fully understand — " 

Dick and Chub were gazing fascinatedly at the 
handkerchief which had been rolled into a smaller 
and yet smaller ball and which was now entirely 
out of sight between Billy's palms. 

"I want you to tell me so that I can explain," 
continued Billy. Then he brushed the palms of 
his hands lightly together. The handkerchief had 
utterly disappeared ! 

"Bully!" said Dick. 

"Blessed if I understand that," muttered Chub. 
Billy laughed. 

"Oh, that 's very simple," he replied with a 
laugh. "Merely transference. Now, if the per- 
son in the audience is quite through with the 
handkerchief I '11 ask him to return it by one of 
the ushers." Billy's eyes ranged questioningly 
from Dick to Chub and back again, while he 
smiled politely and expectantly. Then, "I say if 
you are quite through with the handkerchief," 
he announced in a louder voice, "you will be kind 
enough to return it." Chub and Dick grinned. 
Roy stood on his other foot for a change and 
grinned too. Billy pretended to be cross. 
"Really, ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I assure 
you that I can't go on with the performance until 
the handkerchief is returned. I know where it is 
and if the gentleman who has it does n't return 
it at once I shall be obliged to call on one of the 
ushers for assistance." The audience made no 
reply. "You, there," cried Billy, pointing sud- 
denly at Chub. "There 's no use in acting this 
way. The handkerchief is in your right-hand 
coat pocket. Kindly return it, sir!" 

Chub nearly jumped off his soap-box. Then he 
stared dazedly at Billy for a moment, finally drop- 
ping one hand into the pocket specified, a look of 
incredulity on his face. But he found it, or at 
least he found something, for, 

"Thunder!" he yelled, jerked his hand out 
again and jumped to his feet as something fell to 
the ground with a soft thud. The something went 
hopping away toward the tent door amidst howls 
of laughter from Roy and Dick. It was a large 
fat toad. Chub stared at it until it had hopped 
from sight. Then he stared at Billy. Finally he 
stared at Roy and Dick, and those youths went 
into spasms of even more riotous laughter. 
"Well!" said Chub finally, and sat down again 
after looking at the soap-box carefully to see that 
there were no more toads about. 

"You 'd better look in your pocket again. 
Chub!" cried Dick. "There may be another!" 

Chub obeyed the suggestion very gingerly and 
heaved a sigh of relief to find the pocket empty. 

"My mistake," said Billy easily, when the 
laughter had subsided. "I beg your pardon, sir. 
Had I known that you were in the habit of carry- 
ing pets around with you I should have been more 
careful, sir. I 'm very sorry, really. You '11 par- 
don me, I trust ?" Chub grinned sheepishly and 
Billy was silent a moment, frowning intently at 
the lantern. Then, "Ah !" he exclaimed. "How 
stupid of me ! Really, ladies and gentlemen, I 
don't know when I 've made such a foolish mis- 
take before ! I am really chagrined, I assure 
you!" He turned to Roy beside him. "You, sir, 
are at liberty to return to your seat. I thank you 
very much." Roy smiled, hesitated, and moved 
toward his bed upon which he had been seated 
when summoned to assist "the Professor." 

But he was n't destined to get off quite so 
easily, for : 

"Oh, but one moment, sir, if you please," said 
Billy. "You had better leave the handkerchief 
here, had n't you?" 

Roy stopped and smiled helplessly. 

"I suppose so," he said, "if I 've got it." 

"Do you mean to deny that you have it?" ex- 
claimed Billy in apparent astonishment. 

"No, I don't," answered Roy forcibly, to the 
amusement of the others. 

"Ah," said Billy, "then I '11 trouble you for it." 
And he held out his hand. 

"I — I guess you '11 have to take it," answered 
Roy uneasily. 

"You compel me to use force," said Billy. 
"I 'm sorry, but — " He seized Roy quickly, 
plunged a hand into the inside pocket of his 
jacket and drew forth the handkerchief neatly 

Roy stared at the handkerchief and at Billy. 
Then he shook his head and slowly walked over 
to his seat. 

"I declare," he said laughingly, "I was n't sure 
it was n't in my mouth !" 

"Tell us how you did it!" demanded Dick. But 
Billy, pulling his sleeves down, shook his head 

"Professional secrets," he said. "And now I 
must be off to bed. I 've kept you fellows up 
pretty late, I 'm afraid." They assured him that 
they liked it and that he should stay longer. But 
he got into his oilskin coat and took his departure 
through the rain. 

"I say, he 's all right, is n't he?" asked Dick 
awedly. They all agreed that he was that com- 
plimentary thing called "right." But a moment 
later Chub said suddenly : 

"I guess a fellow who can do things like that 
would n't have much trouble getting a handker- 
chief into his hip pocket!" 




Chapter XIV 


The next morning when they awoke they found 
that it was still raining, although not so heavily. 
At half-past ten Roy and Chub went over to the 
Cottage and found Harry and brought her back 
with them. It very nearly ceased raining after 
dinner and they all went around to Billy Noon's 
camp to pay him a visit. But both he and the 
Minerva were absent. After an early supper, how- 
ever, he showed up and there was an hour of 
stories and tricks, Harry demanding them since 
she had not been in the audience the evening be- 
fore. Even Chub took part in the general hilarity 
to-night. He still had his suspicions of Bill}' 
Noon, but it was very hard to remember them 
when that gentleman was so frank and friendly 
and entertaining. To the amusement of the 
others, Chub kept his hands in the pockets of his 
jacket all the time Billy was doing his sleight- 
of-hand tricks ; no more toads for him, he 
asserted. So the toad this evening was a pine- 
cone, and Harry found it in the pocket of her 
rain-coat and was terribly disturbed until she dis- 
covered that it was n't nearly as dangerous as it 

The party broke up quite early, however, as 
Harry had to be home before dark and, besides, 
she was a bit nervous because of an attempted 
burglary the night before at Farmer Mercer's 
house, about a half mile away. So, about eight 
Roy and Chub paddled her across to the landing 
and only left her when the gate in the hedge was 

"There," said Chub, "burglars can't steal you 
now, Harry." 

"No," answered Harry, "good night!" And 
she dashed across the campus. Roy and Chub 
stumbled back down the path. It was almost dark 
there in the grove, for there was neither moon- 
light nor starlight, and so it was n't altogether 
awkwardness that sent Chub sprawling over a 

"Hello!" cried Roy. "Are you hurt?" 

"No," Chub answered, picking himself up from 
the ground. "At least, not much. I 've gone 
and wrenched that old tendon again, the one I 
hurt last year. Give me an arm down to the 
landing, Roy." 

"That 's too bad," said Roy as they went on, 
Chub supporting himself on the other's shoulder. 
"It 's the tendon at the back of the ankle, is n't 

"Yes, but it will be all right to-morrow if I 
don't use it. It 's getting dark ! and warm, too ! 
Where 's the canoe? All right, I can get in." 

Back in camp Roy turned himself into a doc- 
tor and treated Chub's bruised ankle with cold 
water. Then he gave it a good rubbing and 
finally did it up in wet bandages. It had swollen 
up considerably and hurt half-way up the back of 
Chub's leg. But it was nothing serious, and he 
knew it, and so composed himself to sleep when 
Dick blew out the light. But slumber did n't 
come easily to him. His foot and leg pained him 
considerably, and besides, it was a warm, muggy 
night with almost no air stirring and the interior 
of the tent was stifling. So Chub lay awake, 
staring into the darkness, listening enviously to 
the measured breathing of Dick and Roy, and all 
the time trying to discover a comfortable position 
for the injured foot. The night was very still 
save for the soft lapping of the water and the 
incessant voices of the insects. To make matters 
worse the mosquitos were having a gala night of 
it; the weather was just the sort they liked best. 
Usually Chub would n't have stayed awake for 
all the mosquitos in the world, but to-night their 
buzzing got on his nerves badly. He stuck it out 
for nearly two hours. Then he sat up in bed 
irritably, muttered uncomplimentary remarks in 
the direction of Roy, who was snoring softly, 
and suddenly felt as wide awake as he had ever 
felt in his life ! 

It was absurd to stay here in bed and suffer 
from the heat when it was, of course, much cooler 
outside. So he swung his injured foot carefully 
to the floor, arose and hobbled out of the tent. 
It was n't very cool out there, but the air was 
fresher and the odor of the damp woods and pine 
trees was soothing. So he hopped across to the 
nearest bench and made himself comfortable with 
his feet off the ground and his back against the 
trunk of a tree. It was a relief to get out of that 
hot, stuffy tent, he told himself. It was n't long 
before the mosquitos found him, but he did n't 
mind them greatly ; some persons experience very 
little distress from mosquito bites and Chub was 
one of them. Presently, too, the bark of the 
tree began to feel rough at the back of his 
head, while his aching leg protested against 
the cramped position it held. But in spite of all 
this Chub was actually nodding, almost half 
asleep, when voices, seemingly almost beside him, 
drove all thought of slumber from his mind. 
Startled, he raised his head and peered about into 
the darkness. He could n't see a yard away from 
him, but the voices — and now he realized that, 
although distinct, they came from some little dis- 
tance — reached him again. 

"I don't like the idea of waiting," said one 
speaker. "They may move the stuff." 

"Not if they don't suspect," said a second 




voice. "And it 's better to get them all while 
we 're at it. Once let them know we 're after 
them and they '11 scatter, destroy the stuff, and 
hide the plates !" 

"Yes," said the first voice, "I guess that 's so. 

mur, and while Chub was trying to explain this 
the creak of boom came to him. That was it ! 
The two men had been in a sail-boat on their way 
either up or down the river in the main channel 
and very near the island. There was almost no 


Whipple says, 

He 's due back on Thursday 

Then Thursday night — ?" 

"Thursday night, unless something 

meanwhile. Only thing I 'm afraid of is that the 

local police will blunder on to a clue and spoil 

the whole job." 

"Not they ! I know 'em all and — " 

The voices suddenly died away to a faint mur- 

wind where Chub was, but there was probably 
enough on the water to keep a boat moving. But 
the odd part of it all was the fact that Chub was 
almost certain that he had heard both voices be- 
fore, although, try as he might, he could n't place 
them. If the voices were familiar it disposed of 
the theory that the men were merely traveling 
the river. Perhaps they were going to land on 



the island! Perhaps — ! Chub started, forgot 
his injured ankle, and sank back on the bench 
with a groan. Supposing one of them was — he 
uttered a sudden exclamation. 

"Billy Noon!" he whispered. He knew the 
voice of the second speaker now ; there was no 
doubt about it. And yet, Billy had left them at 
about eight in the direction of his boat, de- 
claring that he was going to turn in. Still, that 
did n't signify anything. The voice was Billy 
Noon's voice without a doubt, and very probably 
the boat was his as well. At that moment, from 
below the island, came aga'in the creak of a boom. 
Then they were bound down-stream, thought 
Chub. In that case — but it was all an unfathom- 
able mystery, and by this time he . was very 
sleepy, and so, hobbling back to the ' tent, he . 
threw himself down on his bed and dropped off j 
to slumber. . , = ■- . 

When he awoke Roy and Dick had finished 
breakfast and it was nearly nine o'clock!/ Roy 
explained that they thought maybe he had n't s 
slept very well, and so they did n't awaken him/ 
The ankle was almost well, and after giving it 

another sousing with cold water Chub ate with 
hearty relish the breakfast which they had left 
on the stove for him. Dick was out in the 
launch bailing the water out with a saucepan. 
The sun was shining brightly and almost every 
cloud had been swept aside by the westerly breeze 
that rumpled the surface of the river. 

"Roy, this is Sunday, is n't it?" Chub asked.' 
And Roy replied that it was. Chub groaned. 

"That means letters to write," he sighed. 

"How did you sleep?" asked Roy. 

"Pretty well," answered Chub thoughtfully. "I 
was awake until long after midnight, though." 
He was trying to decide whether to mention the 
men in the sail-boat. Viewed by the sane light of 
morning the incident seemed to mean very little. 
"And while he was still hesitating there came the 
sound -of a- merry whistle and Billy Noon ap- 
peared around the point. Chub looked at him at- 
tentively. He did n't look at all like a person 
.who had been up half the night. Perhaps, after 
atll, Chub thought, he had been mistaken in the 
voice ; lots of voices 1 sounded alike in the dark. 
So he kept his own' counsel for the present. 

( To be continued. ) 




At 1654 Taylor Street, in the city of San Fran- 
cisco, there stands to-day a house, which, in the 
greatest fire of modern times, was saved from 
the flames by the flag. When over four hundred 
blocks of buildings lay in smoking ruins, this 
house was the only one left standing unconsumed 
along the east side of the full length of Taylor 
Street — a distance of twenty-eight blocks, nearly 
two full miles. 

The house is one of the prominent residences 
on one of the great hills of the city, known as 
Russian Hill ; and was the first large dwelling- 
house erected in that section of San Francisco, 
away back in the early days. It is not built of 
lumber that grew upon the Pacific Coast. Like 
many of the houses of pioneer times, it came in 
the hold of a vessel around the Horn. In the 
far-off state of Georgia the pine-trees grew; and 
there the house was framed and fashioned before 
it started on its long sea journey of thirteen 
thousand miles. As shown in the picture, some 
additions have been made, and its exterior has 
been covered with California shingles; but for 
the most part it stands to-day as it was first 
framed in Georgia. 

It has long been the home of patriots. Its 
owner, Mr. Eli T. Sheppard, served as a member 
of the Eighty-fifth Ohio Volunteers in the Civil 
War ; rendered valuable service to his country 
as United States Consul at Tientsin, China, from 
1869 to 1875 ; and, in 1876, was appointed by 
President Grant international law adviser for the 
imperial Japanese cabinet. Another portion of 
the residence is occupied by Mr. E. A. Dakin, a 
veteran of the Civil War. Mr. Sheppard had 

gathered within its walls a large and valuable 
collection of oriental treasures. Among them 
were costly vases given by the Emperor of 
Japan ; a sword presented by Li Hung Chang ; a 
superb lacquer cabinet, the gift of the Chinese 
Empress to Mrs. Sheppard. On the other hand, 
flags had long been Mr. Dakin's hobby. He had 
one room entirely covered with American flags. 
Some of them had played a part in history. 
There was the jack of the Oregon; the rear-ad- 
miral flag of the Bennington; the jack of the 
Marblehcad while at Cuba ; the launch flag of 
Dewey's Olympia; and on the walls of this room 
hung the great banner of the Stars and Stripes 
that was to save the house and all its treasures 
from destruction. 

At the time of the earthquake and fire, April 
18, 1906, Mrs. Brindley, a daughter of Mr. Shep- 
pard, was there awaiting the arrival of her hus- 
band to take steamer for Japan. She had long 
resided in that country, and had had "earthquake 
experience," so to speak. Accordingly, as soon as 
the earth had ceased trembling, she proceeded to 
fill the bath-tubs and all other receptacles in the 
house with water. She feared that the disturb- 
ance of the earth had broken the supply mains; 
and hardly had she filled the last pitcher when 
her fear was proved well-grounded. The water 
ceased to flow. But the first step that made it 
possible for the flag to save the house had been 
taken. Mr. Sheppard and Mr. Dakin took the 
second step. In order that the household might 
have a supply of drinking water, they brought 
home from a neighboring grocery a dozen or so 
bottles of water charged with carbonic acid gas, — 




the kind of bottles where you press a lever at the 
top, and the water fizzes out in a stream under 
pressure. They are commonly called "siphons." 

At this time no one 
thought the house in dan- 
ger. It had sturdily with- 
stood the earthquake ; and 
the fire was many blocks 
away. But all Wednesday 
and Wednesday night and 
all of Thursday the fire 
raged in fury ; and at last 
it came creeping up the 
slope of Russian Hill. The 
flames reached the block 
in which the house was 
situated. The heat grew 
intense. The sides of the 
house sent forth smoke. 
The veranda on the east 
broke into flames, and the 
under side of the eaves on 
the north and east kindled 
tc a blaze. 

Mr. Sheppard and his 
family had taken one last 
look at their home with its 
treasures, and had sought 
refuge with friends across 
the bay. Mr. Dakin had 
stayed to the last, hoping 
against hope. But now all 
hope was gone. The house 
was burning, and he was 
warned away. He deter- 
mined to hoist his largest 
American flag and let the 
house meet destruction 
with the colors flying fair 
above it. He rushed to his 
room of flags, selected his 
largest Stars and Stripes, 
mounted to the roof, at- 
tached the great flag to the 
halyards, and flung it to 
the breeze. Then, with a 
feeling somewhat akin to 
respect for the conquering 
power of the great fire 
king, roaring forward in 
irresistible ruin, and with 

a spirit somewhat akin to the unconquerable 
pluck that stirred the breasts of his comrades 
in the days of the Civil War, he dipped the 
flag in salute. Three times the glorious ban- 
ner rose and fell ; and then, fastening the hal- 
yards, Mr. Dakin descended the stairs, locked the 

door, and with a heavy heart left the house to its 
fate. High in the'air, shining bright in the light 
of sun and flames, above the house of pines that 


had grown by the shores of the Atlantic, stream- 
ing forth on a breeze that came fresh from the 
Pacific, stood "Old Glory." 

The white stars upon that flag were there as 
symbols of the States of the Union. One star 
was there for California and one was there for 




Georgia; but three blocks away, to the eastward, 
at the corner of Vallejo Street and Montgomery 
Avenue, at that moment, there chanced to be a 
company of men who represented all the stars on 
that flag's field of blue — a company of the 20th 
United States Infantry. 

Under the command of a young lieutenant, the 
company had been on its way to San Francisco 
on the day of the earthquake; and had been de- 
layed on its journey twenty-four hours. It had 
entered the city, Thursday afternoon, by the 
ferry from Oakland, and was at that moment 
marching under orders to go into camp at Wash- 
ington Square. The lieutenant and his men had 
seen the flag rise and fall in salute; and saw it 
now as it streamed forth in beauty amidst smoke 
and flame. 

"Boys," shouted the young lieutenant, "a house 
that flies a flag like that is worth saving!" His 
men responded with a cheer; and as Mr. Dakin 
was sadly wending his way down the northern 
slope of Russian Hill, soldiers of the 20th United 
States Infantry were dashing up the eastern slope 
at a double-quick. No time was lost. They tore 
away the burning woodwork of the veranda ; 
broke open the door ; and discovered the bath- 
tubs filled with water. Some of them carried 

earth from the garden; others mixed it in the 
bath-tubs to the consistency of wet plaster; and 
then certain of. their number stationed them- 
selves at different windows and as the wet mud 
was carried to them, they bombarded every spot 
that had kindled into flame. 

One by one the houses in the block burnt up 
and burnt out until the old house stood alone. 
Every blaze that had started upon its eaves and 
sides had been extinguished save one. There 
was one spot under the eaves at the northeast 
corner that could not be bombarded successfully. 
Unless the fire at that point was put out, all that 
had been done were done in vain. 

The soldiers were equal to the emergency. A 
squad mounted to the roof. One of the men lay 
flat upon the edge, and while four of his com- 
rades held him fast by the legs, he leaned afar 
out over the wide old-fashioned eaves. Others 
passed to him bottles of the water charged with 
carbonic acid gas. And there, hanging far over 
the edge of the roof so that he might be able to 
direct the stream of water on the fire burning 
fiercely beneath the eaves, he squirted the fizzing 
contents of bottle after bottle, until the last flame 
and the last ember were extinguished — and the 
house was saved. 


BY N. B. T. 

Last July Fourth, in Noisyville, 

We put a stop to labor; 
We closed the door of house and store, 

And neighbor called to neighbor. 
Some went off sailing for the day, 

Some went off flower-picking, 
Some went-off crabbing in the bay, 

And crowds went off picnicking. 
'T were hard to tell the ways they took : 

But, toil and town forsaking, 
Vol. XXXV. -100. 

All the good folk of Noisyville 
Went off a-merrymaking. 

The stars came out on Noisyville, 

The moon came up, and found 
The happy truants home again. 

And soon 't was "noised" around 
(For numerous reports were heard 

Before the night was through) 
That all fireworks in Noisyville had — gone off too ! 


{A Legend of the First Prince of Wales) 


A legend runs of Edward, the first king of the name, 

A conqueror of England, whose mighty army came 

Into the Welshman's country in cuirasses of steel, 

On warlike steeds so armor clad they could no arrows feel. 

Because the Prince Llewellyn had refused to homage pay, 

Said Edward, "He shall bow to me, or else I go to slay." 

They fought, and brave Llewellyn was killed upon his plains, — 

His brother David, sent by night to Shrewsbury, in chains, 

To perish as a traitor, and all the good Welsh lands, 

Her people and her castles strong came into English hands. 

At Carnarvon the king abode, — the fairest spot in Wales ; 

And there to gain his subjects' love, — so run the old monks' tales, — 

He offered them a splendid prince, "a Welshman true by birth, 

And one who spoke no other tongue than theirs upon the earth." 

The people shouted loud with joy while low on bended knees 

They promised loyalty to him who sought their hearts to please. 

The king then brought his new-born son, — the "Welshman true by birth, 

And one who spoke no other tongue than theirs upon the earth." 

The baby cooed and cooed in glee, and kicked his tiny feet, 

And, though chagrined, the people owned their new-born prince was sweet. 

And thus that day at Carnarvon, — so run the old monks' tales — 

Into the lasting; title came that first small Prince of Wales. 





There was a time when "Twenty Thousand 
Leagues under the Sea" was for me the finest 
story ever written ; and when, some years after- 
ward, I saw a picture of the Holland submarine, 
I was sure that the inventor had got the idea 
from Captain Nemo's Nautilus. It is true that 
Mr. Lake, the inventor of the submarine that 
bears his name, was inspired to his life-work by 
reading Jules Verne's story at the age of ten ; 
but the fact remains that the submarine idea was 
over two hundred years old when the clever 
French writer was born. 

When President Roosevelt made a trip in a 
submarine not long ago, there was a great stir in 
the newspapers ; but not many people know that 
as long ago as 1620, King James the First made 
a journey of two or three hours below the sur- 
face of the Thames on board the first navigable 
submarine in history. This was the invention of 
a Dutch physician, Cornelius Van Drebel, a man 
in high favor with the king. It was built of 
wood, covered with greased leather to keep out 
the water, and propelled by twelve rowers, whose 
oar-holes, also, were protected against leaking by 
greased leather. Van Drebel boasted that he 
kept the air inside by means of a secret elixir, but 
after his death his enemies declared that he must 
have had air-pipes sticking out of the water. At 
any rate, he died with his secret while in the 
midst of his experiments. 

When we think of the difference in mechanical 
science between then and now, perhaps the king 
who would risk his life in such a boat was not 
so much of a coward after all ! 

During the next one hundred and fifty years, 

several inventors tried to build submarines. One 
of them, oddly enough, was a John Holland, who 
took out a patent for his submarine in 1691. In 
1 89 1, just two hundred years later, another John 
Holland was perfecting a submarine which has 
come to be the accepted type in our Navy. 

But the glory of making the first submarine 
that actually operated in time of war belongs to 
an American, David Bushnell, who built the 
Turtle to destroy the British blockading ships in 
New York Harbor. 

When the Turtle was finished, she was manned 
by a sergeant of the Continental army who had 
been carefully trained in the use of the boat by 
Bushnell himself. One night the little submarine 
was towed near a huge man-o'-war, when it sub- 
merged and came up under the ship's bottom. 
But the sergeant found that, try as he might, he 
could not bore through the copper sheathing. 
Soon he found himself being carried away by the 





tide, and, as day was breaking, he cast loose his 
mine and paddled for shore. The mine was set 
by clockwork and, after bobbing about on the 
surface awhile, it suddenly went off with a tre- 
mendous explosion, which did no damage. The 
attempt had failed, but it showed that submarine 
warfare was possible. 

The chief objection seemed to be, and contin- 
ued to be for nearly a century, that submarine 
warfare was "dastardly." The English were in- 
dignant at what they called "villainous and un- 
derhanded" methods, and Bushnell found that 
the American authorities felt the same way ; so 
all he got for his trouble was hard names from 
friend and foe. 

The next submarine builder of note was also 
an American — and a famous one — Robert Ful- 
ton. His boat was the Nautilus (from which 
Jules Verne took the name for Captain Nemo's 
ship), propelled, like the Turtle, by hand, only 
instead of oars there was a wheel astern. She 
had also a sail for use when on the surface. 
Notice the first appearance of the "cigar shape," 
which set the fashion for all the submarines that 
have followed. 

As Fulton was in France at the time he was 
building the boat, he tried to get the French gov- 
ernment interested. Finally, in 1801, he was al- 
lowed to give his boat a public trial in the harbor 

nothing but opposition to his "villainous" idea. 
In despair, he gave himself up to the develop- 
ment of the steamboat. 

Another American, with a more romantic turn 


of Brest. There he made three trips without a 
hitch ; in the last one he stayed under water five 
hours at a stretch, and blew up an old hulk with 
his mine. The crowds cheered, and the officials 
smiled ; then, after . pondering awhile, they told 
him politely that the Nautilus would n't do. It 
was much too novel for old frigate captains to 

Disheartened by this, Fulton went to England, 
where he gave another successful performance 
in the Thames by blowing up an old Danish 
frigate. Again, his very success was against 
him. The Admiralty solemnly declared that the 
Nautilus was a device that threatened navies ; 
and, since England's mainstay was her navy, she 
must not encourage such a thing ! Poor Fulton 
came back to America, and even here he met 


of mind, began in 1821 to build an enormous sub- 
marine, with which he was going to St. Helena 
to rescue Napoleon ! Unfortunately, Napoleon 
died before the boat was finished. But through- 
out the first half of the century, men of all na- 
tions, especially the French, were puzzling over 
submarine construction. Bauer, a German, had 
an experience even more discouraging than Ful- 
ton's. Failing, after endless trouble, in Ger- 
many, Austria, and England, he succeeded only 
long enough in Russia to prove that he could 
make his boat work under water, when there, 
too, he was driven by official greed and jealousy 
out of the country. 

After Fulton's demonstrations, the greatest ad- 
vance in submarine construction was made by 
the Confederates in our Civil War. They com- 
bined the uses of steam and electricity, and car- 
ried the "spar" torpedo in the bow. But the 
only one of their submarines that succeeded in 
destroying, an enemy was as simple as the Nau- 
tilus. This David, as submarines were then 
called, was about sixty feet long and manned by 
nine men, eight of whom worked the screw-shaft 
by hand, while the ninth acted as pilot. On the 
night of February 17, 1864, this little craft went 
out to attack the Housatonic, a Federal ship an- 
chored in Charleston Harbor. The officer of the 
deck saw something rippling along the surface 
of the water directly toward the ship, and in- 
stantly gave the alarm ; but, before the Housa- 
tonic could move out of the way, the David was 
alongside, and, a minute after, one hundred 
pound* of powder exploded under the keel of the 
ship. She fairly jumped out of the water and 
then lurched heavily to the bottom. During the 




confusion of rescuing the survivors, the David 
apparently escaped, for she could not be found. 

This exploit was the first case of a submarine 
destroying an enemy; and, strange to say, it is 
the last ! The boat, before this, had had a tragic 
history. Five times before she had gone to the 
bottom with her crews, and five times she had 
been raised and remanned by men who volun- 
teered for the perilous duty. Thirty-five men 
had already been lost in her when she sallied 
out to attack the Housatonic. Then, after the 
war, when divers went down to the wrecked 
ship, they found the David wedged into the very 
hole she had made, evidently sucked in by the 
rush of water. 

The effect of the David's torpedo proved that 
the submarine was worthy of respect, and there- 

after there was no more talk about its being 
"infamous." From the Civil War to our day 
there has been scarcely a year when an inventor 
in some part of the world has not taken out a 
submarine patent. 

The result is that the modern submarine is a 
maze of machinery, with scarcely a square inch 
of room on the side to spare. 

While we wonder at this perfection of the sub- 
marine of to-day, we should remember that it is 
the result of the labor of hundreds of inventors 
and hundreds of years, with the sacrifice of many 

The submarine may not yet be adapted for 
pleasure cruises like that of Captain Nemo's 
Nautilus, but it has at last fought its way to a 
position among the world's vessels of war. 



Ten men sealed inside a gigantic torpedo, now 
skimming amid sunshine over the glassy surface 
of a summer sea, now vanishing and diving two 
hundred feet into the blackness toward an ocean 
bottom, seeing nothing save a maze of whirling 
brass and glittering steel, hearing nothing save 
the deafening drone of hammering, thumping, 
pounding engines, and all the time tense with the 
realization that death in one of its most harrow- 
ing forms may confront them at any instant — 
these are some of the experiences of the men 
detailed to the submarine torpedo-boat service of 
our Navy. Indeed, the submarine torpedo-boat 
man combines the hazards of the diver and the 
"sand hog" — as the under-river tunneler is 
called — and takes those of a man-of-war's man 
and a sailor into the bargain. 

Even in time of peace the submariner's life is 
threatened. For, in order to keep men toned up 
to the highest degree of war efficiency, the ves- 
sels are ordered out for practice frequently, and, 
wonderful though the vessel is in its possibilities 
for demolishing enemies, only to an extent can 
the men inside control what is going to happen to 

Without even a chance of knowing it, the sub- 
marine may rise and come to the surface directly 
in front of the prow of a steamship only to be 
cut in two like an egg-shell. Often diving 

farther than the keels of the deepest ocean vessels 
reach, the submarine is in a strange maritime 
world where it must take chances in running 
upon uncharted reefs, or striking waterlogged 
spars or spiles that may meet it head on and 
lance a hole through the thin plates and hold the 
boat captive on an ocean bottom. Again, in the 
frail vessel subjected to an enormous strain while 
submerged, structural weakness may develop, and 
the hull may spring a serious leak ; or, through 
negligence, the water-tight cover over the hatch 
may be improperly screwed down while the crew 
gazes on, horror-stricken and powerless. And as 
if these risks were not enough, the men are 
caged up as if inside the crater of a threatening 
volcano, for each submarine carries four mon- 
strous torpedoes more than sixteen feet long, 
each loaded with 190 pounds of guncotton, 
enough to blow a Drcadnaught out of water. To 
these dangers add the fact that when a subma- 
rine torpedo-boat sends its deadly sting into an 
enemy there is the possibility that not a man 
aboard the boat would live to tell the tale, and 
you have a fair idea what it means to be a sub- 
marine torpedo-boat man. 


No matter how much you may have screwed up 
your courage, when the time comes to make up 




your mind to board a submarine boat and take 
chances, your imagination is apt to run riot. 
Looking down from the pier from which you 
are to embark you see a lead-gray curved surface 
of steel, which rises above the water like the 
back of a big whale with a cheese-box hump and 
a hatch and a pair of ship's ventilators about the 
middle of it, and a mast at either end. What 
strikes you most is the insignificant size of the 
bleak, grim contrivance to which you are sup- 
posed to' trust your life. All you see is a flat 
deck space, twenty-five or thirty feet long, three 
feet wide at the middle, and tapering to a point 
at either end, the level of the deck being an ab- 
surd twenty-four or thirty inches above the water 

As a matter of fact, what you are looking at is 
the back of a perfectly steerable, mechanical fish, 
one hundred feet long, and eleven feet at its 
greatest diameter, built of half-inch-thick steel 
plates, and provided at the stern not only with the 
usual vertical rudder with which all boats are 
steered in a horizontal plane, but also with a 
horizontal or "diving rudder," by means of which 
she is made to steer up or down. The tail with 
which this under-water colossus sends its hull 
of 170 tons' displacement through the water, con- 
sists of twin propeller screws, each driven by a 
separate high-power internal combustion engine 
while the vessel runs afloat or awash, and each 
driven by a separate electric motor while the 
boat runs submerged. If the captain wishes, he 
can take you on one continuous run of eight 
hundred miles, running either on the surface or 
awash, with his gasolene engines at a speed of 
thirteen miles an hour ; and then he might dive, 
using his electric motor and storage batteries, 
and make one long "fetch" of fifty miles, at a 
rate of nine miles an hour, before his supply of 
electricity would be exhausted. At the end of 
these eight hundred and fifty miles he would 
have to make port for gasolene, would simply 
reverse his electric motor and run them as dyna- 
mos by means of his ship's engines until the 
batteries were recharged, rendering his boat as 
efficient as in the first place. No toy, therefore, 
is this submarine, but a formidable fighting craft, 
important enough to have induced Congress to 
appropriate $3,000,000 to build other submarines 
just like her to be added to the twelve now on the 
list of the Navy. 


But, gazing down upon the back of this uncanny 
vessel, which is in reality nothing but an enor- 
mous steerable torpedo with a human crew, what 
interests you most just now are the men who 

handle the boat and into whose hands you are to 
intrust your life. 

Lounging upon the end of the pier or on the 
deck of the submarine, the crew little resembles 
the sort of semi-heroes you might picture as be- 
longing to this service. As likely as not, you are 
apt to meet a crew not a single one of whom is 
wearing what even remotely suggests a naval 
uniform. As a general rule the "captain" wears 
a uniform, one that is old and weather-beaten, 
with braid and buttons tarnished by the spray 
and spume of much salt water. Possibly the en- 
sign or the junior lieutenant, the second in com- 
mand, is similarly attired. But the three en- 
gineers, the two electricians, the gunner and his 
assistant, and the able-bodied seamen, these are 
apt to be togged out in "any old thing," from car- 
digan jackets and civilians' trousers frayed at the 
ends, down to undershirts and tattered overalls ; 
for the Department recognizes that the submarine 
service is hard on uniforms, and it is lenient in 
this respect. 

But though the men may appear at first sight 
disreputable, as a matter of fact you are gazing 
at one of the most marvelously drilled and dis- 
ciplined crews of human beings — high class, 
picked men, not one of whom has been tried and 
found wanting. Indeed, the submarine itself 
sifts the wheat from the chaff. A nervous man, 
or a man otherwise unsuited by temperament to 
the work, would wear himself out to a nervous 
wr£ck inside of a month, simply by his own imag- 
ination. The crew is made up of young men, with 
alert, intelligent^ manly faces, young men lured 
by the very dangers of the work, by the distinc- 
tion of belonging to that branch of the Navy 
which is most perilous, by the chances of doing 
great big things if opportunity only will offer, 
and by the love of strong natures for excitement 
and adventure. 


Stepping upon the deck of a submarine you are 
startled to see how desperately near your feet are 
to the water. Of course, you have expected 
something like this at first glance at the boat, 
but as you actually stand upon the deck, the 
greatest width of which you could cover at a 
single stride, and as you gaze at the wavelets 
leaping up within a foot of your toes, there is 
a nervous cribbling about the ankles, and you 
wonder whether you will be seized with giddiness 
and become unable to resist the temptation of 
leaping overboard once the boat gets under way. 
You wish there were a rail around the deck or 
even a bare inch-high cleat to prevent you from 
slipping into the water; for there is nothing but 



the two frail ten-foot masts, and they are where 
the deck ceases, being only for the peaceful pur- 
pose of showing observers on shore the location 
of the boat when partly submerged. 

Out of the middle of the deck arises the con- 
ning-tower, which is the captain's bridge while 
the vessel runs afloat, and out of which the cap- 
tain can peer in all directions when the boat runs 
awash ; and telescoped in front of the tower is 
the eye of the submarine, the periscope. One 
glance at the conning-tower upsets all your no- 
tions of what this contrivance must be like. In 
shape it resembles a thirty-six-inch-long piece of 
twenty-inch sewer pipe, provided with a flat, 
hinged lid and with a circle of narrow slit win- 
dows, two inches wide and three times as long. 
The lid being open to permit ventilation inside 
the hull, you can gage the inside diameter of the 
tower as a trifle less than that of a sidewalk coal- 
hole, and you wonder how in the world you are 
going to squeeze through to get into the boat. 
Really, however, you are not supposed to squeeze 
through. The inside of the tower is lined with a 
maze of speaking-tubes and electric wires and 
compasses and bell-pulls and valves and wheels, 
the nerves leading from the captain's palm 
throughout the ship, and these might be injured 
were the tower ordinarily used as a companion- 
way. Generally, the captain glides in and out of 
this hole ; but the crew descends by way of the 


When a submarine gets under way she leaves 
without fuss or feathers, without any of the cere- 
monies accompanying events on other war-ships. 
The submarine lives in the dark, striking without 
an instant's warning like an adder; and direct 
and to the point is everything that happens aboard 
the grim fighter. 

Long before you have appeared, the vessel has 
been tested, as she is tested every day whether 
slated for a run or otherwise. The engines and 
the dynamos have been turned over and over, 
the storage batteries have been tested, each valve, 
each tube, each wire, each bolt and rivet and 
wing nut has been inspected as if life itself de- 
pended upon it. When the vessel is ready to 
start, the men simply disappear below, the cap- 
tain takes his seat on the conning-tower, gives 
word to cast off and "yanks" the bell-pull lead- 
ing to the engine-room. Simultaneously you feel 
a tremor throughout the vessel, a deep bass rum- 
ble comes out of the open hatch, and like a thing 
alive the boat moves forward. 

Faster and faster revolve the engines, the 
rumbling settling into the runt of a song, farther 

and farther and faster and faster moves the 
craft toward broad water until she is darting 
forward full speed ahead. 

For the first time in your life you get an idea 
of what a fabulous rate of speed thirteen knots 
an hour is when viewed from the flat side of a 
plank with a river licking your boot tops. 
Twenty knots on the deck of a torpedo-boat de- 
stroyer may have failed to impress you, but 
sledding over the surface of the water on the 
narrow deck of one of these submarines amply 
provides for your desire for sensations. Back, 
back whisks the green water on each side of you 
as if you were gazing over the stern of a fast 
moving motor-boat. But there is no suggestion 
of dizziness, no feeling as if you might be 
tempted to leap overboard, as might come to you 
when gazing down a precipice. There is nothing 
of this save the sane fear that possibly you might 
mis-step and fall overboard to disappear in the 
trail of the white froth boiling behind in a long, 
narrow streak. All else is exhilaration and 
healthful excitement. The wind whistles in your 
ears and blows against your face and through 
your hair and into your eyes until you must 
squint them. 

Should the water be rough, or should white- 
caps rise, the bow wave over the forward deck 
climbs higher and higher, fetching up against the 
conning-tower, smashing into mist and rainbows 
and dousing you with cool, salt spume and spray. 
Your one fear is : what would happen were a 
whitecap larger than the rest to board the deck 
and drop into the hatch? But this is the cap- 
tain's affair and he, wheel in hand and calmly 
alert, sits on the edge of the tower as if carved 
of stone. Mile after mile he sits gazing into the 
distance, now and then giving his wheel a spoke 
or two, the vessel, steady as a church, answering 
the helm and taking seas as if she were a deli- 
cately balanced steam-yacht rather than a devil- 
fish among the fighters of the Navy. 

Running in this wise the submarine might cover 
her eight hundred miles at one stretch, if seas 
permit, gunner, assistant gunner, and others of 
the crew not on duty standing upon deck if they 
wish, while through ventilators and down 
through the conning-tower waft drafts of moist, 
cool sea-air. 

Should seas arise and threaten to wash into the 
hatch the captain simply orders the crew below 
and the hatch sealed. If he does not mind a 
bucket of water down the back of his neck, he 
may stay where he is for a time until the seas 
become even more unruly, when he may glide 
down the tower, either leaving the lid open to 
peer over the edge like a jack-in-the-box, or 




sealing the lid after him and peering through the 
slot-holes — depending upon the roughness of the 

In case seas continue rising and run so high 
as to threaten to carry away the ventilators, these 
are telescoped into the hull and the openings 
through the deck sealed, when you find yourself 
safe as if inside a gigantic stoppered bottle toss- 
ing on the bosom of the seas, now scaling sky- 
ward as if shot out of a rocket, and now tobog- 
ganing down mountain sides of water. No gale, 
scattering wreckage and death on high seas, no 
hurricane, razing coast cities, can affect this craft 
so long as there is sea room, any more than seas 
could wreck a feather ; and, barring a severe dose 
of seasickness that would come to you, you would 
sit as comfortably as in the smoking-room of 
your pet liner, the only sounds of the fury with- 
out being the swish and wash as seas wash clear 
over you. 


Climbing down ten rungs of an iron ladder into 
the interior of a submarine is like going into a 
boiler-shop where there is one continuous, deaf- 
ening, ear-splitting racket, like a dozen trip-ham- 
mers clattering a tattoo amid a grind and rumble 
and thump of machinery as if especially designed 
to burst your ear-drums. At first the noise in 
that narrowly confined space is painful and be- 
wildering. To make yourself at all heard you 
must shout into the ear of a companion. So in- 
tense is the strain that you marvel how day in 
and day out human ears can withstand the ordeal. 

You find yourself inside what seems an enor- 
mous steel cigar, painted a neat pearl-gray, a 
color which is serviceable and does not dazzle the 
eye. Light comes to you partly through port- 
holes and in part from incandescent lamps placed 
fore and aft in the darker parts of the hull. You 
have expected, of course, to land in a tangle of 
whirling machinery that fills the inside of the 
boat from stem to stern threatening with every 
revolution to take an arm or a leg off. Instead, 
the first thing you see is an uninterrupted "work- 
ing space" or deck, measuring seven feet by 
twenty-five or thirty feet. At the stern, far in 
the background, are the machines and engines ; 
in fact, this section of the vessel is nothing but 
machinery, a rumbling mass of silvery steel and 
glittering brass revolving at the rate of five 
hundred times a minute, so compact that you 
wonder how the various parts can turn without 
conflicting, or how it is possible for human hands 
to squeeze through the maze to oil the machinery. 

But this economy of space is as nothing to 
what you will see. The floor you stand on is a 

cover for the cells of the storage batteries 
■wherein is pent up the electricity with which 
your boat will propel herself when she runs sub- 
merged. The walls amidships and the space in 
the bow are gigantic ballast tanks to be filled 
with water that will play a part shortly when you 
get ready to dive. The four torpedoes, measur- 
ing sixteen feet three inches long, eighteen inches 
in diameter, and weighing fifteen hundred pounds 
each, are lashed end for end in pairs at either 
side, and directly over these are tool-boxes, and 
hinged bunks for the crew to sleep in. The very 
air which is taken along to keep life in you in 
case the boat should be detained beneath the sur- 
face longer than usual, is compressed in a steel 
cylinder to two thousand pounds per square inch 
— a pressure so intense that were the cylinder to 
spring a leak no larger than a pin-hole, and were 
the tiny stream of escaping air to strike a human 
being, it would penetrate him through and 
through and drill a hole through an inch-thick 
board behind him. 

And yet everything about the interior arrange- 
ments of this boat is so simple that you can see 
at a glance its purpose. Away forward, where 
the tip of the cigar comes to a point, are the two 
torpedo tubes out of which the gunner will send 
his deadly projectiles seething beneath the waters 
at the rate of thirty-five knots an hour against 
an unsuspecting hull. Directly under the con- 
ning-tower is a platform three feet square and 
elevated three feet from the deck, upon which 
the captain stands, head and shoulders extending 
into the tower so that while at his post he is 
visible to the crew only from the waist line 
down ; and at the feet of the captain, and on a 
level with his platform, is the station of the 
second in command, in charge of the wheel that 
controls the diving rudders and the gages that 
register the angle of ascent and decline, and 
show how deep the boat is down. The two offi- 
cers are in personal communication so that in 
case of heart-disease or other mishap either can 
jump to the other man's place. 


The order to dive is the peal of an electric gong 
that clamors high above the racket of the en- 
gines, and is most likely to come when you 
least expect it and while the boat is proceeding 
on the surface, hatches, ventilators, and conning- 
tower wide open. Within two and one half min- 
utes of the sounding of that signal, the boat is 
supposed to have vanished utterly from the sur- 
face; and what takes place within that time hap- 
pens too quickly to be noticed. With the first 
stroke of the alarm the air is as if surcharged 




with electricity. Men are everywhere, each run- 
ning to his post. The engines cease to revolve. 
The engineers sever the couplings between the 
engines and the shafts and connect the shafts 
with the electric 
motors. The elec- 
tricians are at their 
switchboards await- 
ing only the word 
to turn on the cur- 
rent. The gunner, 
the assistant gun- 
ner, and the able- 
bodied seamen screw 
down hatches and 
take in the ventila- 
tors. The junior 
officer, diving-wheel 
in hand, turns on 
the valves which ad- 
mit floods of water 
into the ballast tanks. 

You hear the wa- 
ter as it gurgles 
and seethes into the 
tanks, and you hear 
the displaced air 
whistling out of the 
valves on top. You feel the decks settle under you 
and realize you are going down, just as you would 
feel this in an elevator cage lowered gradually. As 

Vol. XXXV.— ioi. 

the sinking proceeds, if you look at the port- 
holes, you can see as the level of the water 
reaches the glass and rises and rises until instead 
of daylight there is a green-gray mist and you 


continue to sink until, the ballast tanks having 
been filled, only two inches of the deck are above 
the water's surface — the submarine is awash. 




Briefly, what the men have done is to destroy 
the buoyancy of the boat by admitting water, 
so gaging the cubical contents of the ballast tanks 
that the vessel is balanced so delicately that of 
herself she will come to the surface showing only 
two inches above water, while all that is neces- 
sary to send her under to any desired depth 
within the fraction of an inch is the mere de- 
clining of the horizontal rudder at the stern. 
In fact, your vessel is so balanced on a hair- 
trigger edge that the weight of four 200-pound 
men would send her under, and so delicately bal- 
anced that were it possible to look through the 
bottom of the boat into the depths beneath, its 
keel might be brought against the glass of an open- 
face watch in place without breaking the crystal. 

As the electric motors begin to buzz and hum, 
sending tremors throughout the boat and forcing 
her ahead, there is no sensation of motion. The 
vessel might be standing still or might be moving 
backward for aught you can tell. You have 
lost your ability to discern either speed or direc- 
tion, for there are no stationary objects by which 
you can gage position. As the diving rudder is 


set you can see and can feel as the nose of the 
vessel declines, just as you can feel with your 
eyes closed in which direction a see-saw you are 
standing upon might be tilted. 

Smoothly and evenly, as if you were gliding 
down a hill in a trolley-car, you feel your boat 
tobogganing into the depths. You hear the 
water as it breaks against the conning-tower, 
hear the swish and wash of the waves as they 
climb on deck, and hear the seething as they 
angrily close over you. The boat might glide 
into the depths decorously at an angle of four or 
five degrees ; or she might seem to kick up her 
stern and lower her nose threatening to turn a 
somersault and dive at an angle of twenty de- 
grees, but the sensation would be no more dis- 
agreeable than coasting. All you see is that the 
deck is correspondingly declined. This, and the 
fact that the gray-green against the port-holes is 
steadily darkening until, as you reach a depth of 
twelve feet, all you see is inky black, so that be- 
low this depth you cannot tell excepting by look- 
ing at the depth gages whether you are twelve or 
thirty or two hundred feet down. 


Not until you have gone down in a submarine 
and seen the crew at work can you say you have 

seen the limit to 
which it is possible 
to drill human crea- 
tures. No crack 
company of a regi- 
ment, no fire com- 
pany in any of our 
big cities, not even 
the engine force on 
a man-of-war is un- 
der such discipline 
as the crew of a sub- 

The Navy Depart- 
ment and the men 
themselves realize 
that months are re- 
quired before even 
the most capable 
group of ten can be 
made to work as a 
unit, perfect as clock- 
work. There is no 
time to " break in " 
crews when once 
war is declared, and 
for this reason the 
submarine service is 
continually and in- 
cessantly in war practice. Practice runs in the 
ordinary sense do not exist. Each time the boat 
stands out to sea she goes as if for business, the 
scenes you see being exactly like those that would 


be enacted were the vessel bent upon actually sink- 


ing an enemy. 

When a submarine leaves her pier under her 
own engine, orders come fast and furious ; but 
once she is ready to dive they become almost in- 
cessant. In order to train men to keep in prac- 

found roving. Each man is a mere cog, a human, 
thinking, intelligent cog, nevertheless, a mere 

What the submarine does, once it has disap- 
peared, depends, of course, upon the captain. 
Steaming forward she can turn completely within 


tice at their various duties and to perform these 
almost subconsciously, every manceuver which 
the vessel performs is repeated again and again. 
On a single afternoon's run, for instance, the 
boat may be brought from her light to her diving 
condition as many as a dozen times, so that ac- 
tually the crew has no time except to attend to 
business. In the hand of each man rests the 
lives of his companions. More, it is conceivable 
how in the palm of a single man might rest the 
fate of the nation. Every man, from the captain 
who ranks as a lieutenant, to the able-bodied sea- 
man taken from the forecastle of a warship, is 
at his post, tense, alert, with lips set and eyes 
and ears wide open, for the time being not a 
human creature but just a part of a marvelous 
machine. Not a word is spoken. Not an eye is 

three times her own length and running back- 
ward she can head completely around in a single 
length. If the captain wishes, he can sink the 
deck an inch or a half inch or a foot or ten feet 
beneath the sea and proceed on an even keel, ap- 
pearing from the deck of a man-of-war a mile 
and a half away like a chip of wood floating 
over the water ; or he can go down ten feet, 
showing only the flags on the tips of his masts 
and proceed on such a level plane that the wire 
stay, running between mast-tops, is right down 
to the surface' of the water. Or, if he wishes, he 
can rise and dive and rise and dive, "breaking" 
his conning-tower at intervals of half his boat's 
length, like a porpoise at play, while you sit still 
and feel yourself alternately climbing and coast- 
ing and climbing and coasting, rays of sunshine 




alternating with the green water through the 
port-holes, and the splash and the seething of the 
water aboil coming from overhead. 


It is while running under water, of course, that 
the submarine encounters her gravest dangers, 
for the submarine is her own worst enemy. 
Largely, then, the captain must steer by compass 
and estimate distances covered by computing the 
revolutions of the propellers and he must take 
chances on being swept out of his course by un- 
known currents and cross currents. From the 
instant the slit windows of the conning-tower 
go under, these show only the green of the 
water, and when twenty feet depth is reached, 
looking through these windows is like trying to 
penetrate a sheet of jet. In order to enable the 
captain to see what is going on upon the water 
surface he is provided with a periscope which is 
nothing but a camera htcida on the principle of 
the "finder" 'of a camera, mounted on the top of 
a four-inch telescope-tube which can be ex- 
tended twenty feet upward from inside the con- 
ning-tower, and down which the camera deflects 
against a six-inch diameter white enameled disk 
the diminutive images of whatever goes on 
above. The periscope, however, is useless when 
the boat dives deeper than the length of the tele- 
scope pipe, and, besides, it takes in only forty 
degrees of the horizon at a time, thus showing 
only a section at which it is pointed. For these 
reasons, likely as not, the captain may ignore the 
periscope entirely, using it only to practise run- 
ning submerged toward a given point, while for 
actual navigation purposes he depends solely 
upon coming to the surface at intervals of two 
or three miles for a hasty look around. All of 
which shows in a measure the helplessness of 
the submarine — a terrific,- dangerous, grim mon- 
ster in itself, but one that can only partly see. 


Up to now, however, you have not seen in full 
the possibilities of a submarine, for although in 
rivers or harbors the shallowness of the water 
limits the boat to traveling within ten or twelve 
feet of the water's surface, once at sea the vessel 
dives deeper. 

As the nose of the boat touches the broad 
ocean you require neither slit windows nor peri- 
scope to tell you where you are. Caught in the 
swell of the sea, the boat heaves and falls, heaves 
and falls, and unless you have your sea legs on, 
you are as apt to be seasick in a submarine as you 

would be inside any other vessel, or more so. None, 
not even the most hardened submariner aboard, 
covets the sensation, and to overcome it the ves- 
sel dives deeper, twenty or twenty-five feet down, 
at which depth even the strongest wave motion 
on the surface cannot be felt. Overhead might 
be seas mountain high threatening even a 
Deutschland or an Adriatic, yet twenty-five feet 
beneath the ocean surface you would proceed 
unmolested as if traveling beneath a mill-pond. 

But twenty-five feet beneath seas is by no 
means the limit to which your boat can dive ; in 
fact, at this depth she has not begun to dive. If 
your captain wishes, within two minutes he 
might take you down two hundred feet — fifty 
feet deeper than the most skilled deep-sea diver 
dares to venture — and where against every 
square inch of the surface of your boat there is 
a crushing pressure of more than 133 pounds. 
This, in truth, is one of the tests the govern- 
ment insists upon. If desired, your boat might 
dive to this depth or to any intermediate depth, 
and lie perfectly still like a gigantic fish of prey. 
Or within this depth limit she might come to 
rest against the very ocean bottom, landing light 
as a maple leaf wafted down upon a lawn. 

Sitting inside a submarine on an ocean bot- 
tom you would be no more conscious of the 
enormous water pressure without than if you 
were going to sleep in your own bed. You 
might remain twenty-four hours under water 
without coming up, using only the natural air 
supplied in the boat without feeling the least 
uncomfortable. If you wished, you might re- 
main down four or five days, tapping the air 
tank as you needed a fresh supply of air. In the 
meantime you would bunk over the torpedoes 
and torture yourself by letting your imagination 
loose to your heart's content, or you might read 
by electric light or play cards or dominces or 
checkers, the cook serving you with coffee and 
canned things that can be heated on an electric 
furnace without causing too much smoke, and 
making the air disagreeable to breathe. 

Lying there, beneath the water, you are indeed 
cut off from the world. Hurricanes, typhoons, 
snow or sleet storms and blizzards might rage 
above you, and you never would know it. The 
entire American navy might assemble over your 
head and fire one simultaneous, ear-splitting, 
earth-quaking salute that would be heard twenty 
miles away, but you would not hear it. Nothing 
would come to you save the underwater noises : 
the thudding of propellers of steamers overhead, 
the chafing and banging of spars on decks of a 
wrecked vessel not far off, the grind and the 
crunch of your boat's keel scraping the sands. 





Interesting though it may be to lie in a sub- 
marine two hundred feet down on an ocean bot- 


torn, this is a test which the Navy Department 
insists upon only as a practical test to insure 
that your boat is structurally of a certain stan- 
dard. Ordinarily, even during war time, the sub- 
marine would not be called upon for such circus 

"stunts," even though awaiting the arrival of an 
enemy off a sea-coast. Then, cruising light, the 
boat would hover on one side of the lane by 
which the hostile ships must enter, sighting a 
war-ship eighteen miles dis- 
tant, long before she herself 
could be detected by power- 
ful glasses. 

Full speed ahead the sub- 
marine would dart, laying 
her course to intercept the 
enemy, letting herself down 
as she drew nearer until she 
is awash at two miles distant. 
Then, torpedoes in tube, 
electric motors whirling, 
and crew at fever heat, 
down she goes until within 
one and one half miles of 
her prospective victim. 
"Porpoising" at intervals 
of three fourths of a min- 
ute, breaking her conning- 
tower for five seconds, she 
would proceed until within 
eight hundred yards, where 
she would rise to the sur- 
face, head her nose at the 
broadside of the enemy, let 
drive her torpedoes, drop 
under at once, listening for 
the frightful crash as the 
dread missile explodes its 
one hundred and ninety 
pounds of guncotton against 
the hull of the ship. 

The United States sub- 
marine in action you never 
will see unless you get into 
the service. During peace 
time you can visit any of 
our navy yards and they 
will show you through the 
battle-ships, cruisers, gun- 
boats, and any other boat, 
from stem to stern ; but 
about the secrets of our 
submarines the Department is jealous. It is like 
having teeth drawn to get a permit to go down in 
one, and your camera is barred. For the one 
dreaded, unknown quantity in our next naval war 
will be the devil-fish of our Navy, the submarine. 



July Fourth, when the big flag lay 
Ready to celebrate the day, 
'Barbara Frietchie" I became, 
And faced the enemy's deadly aim 
At mv attic window. But I heard a 


Of "Fire!" — and saw a sword close by 
Of Stonewall Jackson, his steed astride, — 
Well, I meant to have waved my flag and cried : 
"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head," — 
But I hid inside the flag, instead ! 



As a busy little Buttercupper, working at his trade, 
Was mending broken buttercups, he met a Daisymaid, 
And said, "Oh, dearest Daisymaiden, if you '11 come with me, 
We '11 spend the day in seeing if there 's anything to see. 

"We '11 hide within the water-well, for there the weather 's cool, 
And the nixies and the pixies have gone away to school ; 
I '11 tell you pretty anecdotes, and certainly you '11 find 
I 'm but a Buttercupper, but a Buttercupper 's kind." 


by agnes McClelland daulton 

Author of " From Sioux to Susan, 

Fritzi," etc. 

Chapter XVIII 


"Just the loveliest time two girls ever had," that 
is the way Bab described the weeks that followed 
the finding of the diamond crown, in her home 

Everybody was happy at Durley; Aunt Twilla 
in having her favorite back again, and in being 
forgiven ; Ella in forgiving and being with her 
mistress, for she dearly loved Miss Twilla in 
spite of the injustice she had suffered. Pollykins 
was disgracefully jolly — laughing and squalling, 
calling the cats and whistling to the dogs, from 
her old perch at the bay-window. As for Aunt 
Kate, why, she was so joyful these days that her 
kind old face beaming merrily — "You 'd almost 
feel sure she had a lovely secret and was just sort 
of gloating over it," Bab confided to Uncle Edgar 
as the big red car shot up the Serpentine toward 
Durley one lovely evening. It stopped, of course, 
at the Trotts' for a moment, just to see how the 
pickle factory was coming on. Everybody from 
Brook Acres or Durley stopped to see the Trotts, 
coming or going, these days. 

Such radiant Trotts as they were, too; for, 
bless you, every one of those rambling sheds that 
had so irritated everybody had been torn down 
and a neat substantial building was rearing itself 
with pride well back of the house. Already the 
sign Joan had painted with such loving care — 
Bart and Seth had only waited long enough to 
find something to nail it to — smiled from the 
front upon the public : 




There was a sign for you, picked out in red 
and gold on a white background, supported by a 
chubby tomato on the left, and a delicious cucum- 
ber on the right, and topped by three of the most 
lemonish looking lemons. Dear Mrs. Trott 
looked at it every morning with tears in a twin- 
kle in her bright eyes — for it was an amusing 
sign — but there was a joy in her heart that the 

name "Marta Hubbard," at the top of a poster, 
could never have brought her. 

And Daddy Trott ! Oh, it was good to see 
him. His meek face shone with inward light, 
and he stepped quick and lively, while somewhere 
down in his throat he hummed and hummed all 
day long. 

"Just sort of simmering, like a kettle of his 
own pickles, you know," said Christie to Bab. 
"It 's so dear of Daddy, we just fly and hug him 
like bears, but he hums right on." 

Bab and Jean were upon the most loving of 
terms now, for at last Jean could speak the girl 
tongue, and chatted away so delightfully in the 
language that the Trotts loved her next best to 
Bab. Oh, everybody was happy. You should 
have seen, by the way, the pride Christie took in 
her day-book and ledger, and her half dozen blot- 
ters all lay ready, so clean and spotless now, but 
teeming with entries to the imaginative eye 

After Mr. Linsey had tasted lemon honey he 
conceded readily that Mr. Trott was a jam genius 
and no mistake, and most readily he joined 
his sister in advancing the money for the new 
venture, and with his fine business judgment was 
aiding Mrs. Trott in a hundred ways. It was un- 
derstood that Mr. Trott's talents were to be given 
entirely to the factory output, leaving the busi- 
ness in his wife's capable hands, which was just 
as well 

Joan walked on air these days, for Mrs. Linsey 
had told her friends the story of the dinner- 
cards, and already orders were coming in faster 
than Joan could fill them, and Aunt Sallie said 
she should go to town to study art as soon as the 
factory paid. 

"Pooh," growled Aunt Kate in her enchanting 
bass, when Bab told her the joyful piece of news, 
"she 's going this very fall, before the factory has 
time to get on its legs. Shall a jam genius be the 
only one encouraged?" 

Now all this was most interesting and delight- 
ful, but rarer still was the excitement of fitting 
up the mysterious west wing for the equally mys- 
terious family Aunt Kate called the "Sop- 
choppys," because, as she said, "that was n't their 

"When they rented the wing they asked that 
their name should be kept a secret, so I must keep 
it a secret. Sopchoppy is good enough for me, 
therefore it should be good enough for you," she 





would say to the girls in her whimsy way when 
they declared the name horrid and laughed it to 

But, oh, the most delightful things were hap- 
pening to the west wing. 

First, the masons came and cut a beautiful, 
wide, deep doorway toward the sunken garden, 
and soon a flight of broad 
stone steps with a grilled 
iron railing led entranc- 
ingly down into all its 
lovely greenery. From the 
windows just above the 
steps — the very windows 
upon the sills of which El- 
la's geraniums had bloomed 
— was thrown out a little 
balcony with a delicate 
iron balustrade, and from 
beneath it swung a big 
iron lantern to light the 
doorway. The room with 
the balcony, such a large, 
pleasant room, was to be- 
long to the little girl — for 
Aunt Kate admitted the 
Sopchoppys had a little 
girl, a very dear little girl, 
she said — Hoppi, the girls 
had named her since it 
■went so beautifully with 
Sopchoppy — and to tell 
you the truth, Bab was al- 
ready a wee bit jealous of 

Casper and the under 
■gardener had spent days in 
the old garden, and now it 
lay in most beautiful array. 
The summer-house once 
more erect and wreathed 
in vines, the roses upon 
their trellises, a steady 
stream tinkling, tinkling, 
into the satyr's marble 
shell, and the grass clipped, 
and the flower-beds weeded. 
After the masons and the 

plasterers, came the paper-hangers, and in their 
work the girls had especial interest, for Miss Lin- 
sey had taken them to town with her to select the 
papers, though she had insisted that that of 
Hoppi's room should be pale green, much to 
Jean's distress, who preferred pink ! It was n't 
until the day everything was finished that Aunt 
Kate explained her reason. 

"You see," she said, as they stood in the bal- 

cony room together, "I wanted this paper to 
match the hangings in the eagle room, for I 'm 
going to give Hoppi all my eagle things." 

"Aunt Kate I" cried both girls in a chorus, but 
Bab's lips quivered. 

"I suppose," she faltered, looking out with 
blurred eyes upon the lovely garden, "I '11 be 


going home so soon that Hoppi — will — ride 
Comet and — be Jean's best friend." 

"She won't any such thing," cried Jean, throw- 
ing her arms around Bab. "You '11 always be 
first, Bab." 

"And, dear," Aunt Kate's eyes twinkled so she 
had to look out of the window hard. "I did n't 
mean to tell you yet, but this is just as good a 
time as any— and I think I heard a wee bit of a 




hurt in your voice just then; I would n't hurt 
either of my two dear girls for the world — Hoppi 
can, or cannot, ride on Comet, just as you say, 
for Star and Comet belong to Jean and Bab for 
their very own, forever and ever, and you don't 
have to invite Hoppi to ride unless you please." 

Then did n't two happy girls go spinning — for 
Jean was growing more proficient in the girl 
tongue every day ; and surely Aunt Kate had her 
reward when two rosy cheeks were pressed so 
close against her wrinkled ones and she heard, 
over and over, what a "dearest darling" she was. 

"Of course," Bab assured her. "We '11 be 
lovely to Hoppi and she can ride one day on 
Comet and the next on Star until I go home. But, 
oh — how can I leave you all— when I love you so 
— and yet how can I stay — when I love them so ?" 

"Don't talk about it," wailed Jean. 

"Of course you will have Hoppi," faltered Bab, 
"and I 'm so glad — and you '11 have the dear 

"Oh, well, don't put on your bonnet yet, my 
dear," chuckled Aunt Kate. "You are n't going 
for some time." 

It was really wonderful what an interest Aunt 
Millicent and Uncle Edgar and Aunt Twilla and 
even the Trotts took in the new family. Every 
day Aunt Millicent seemed to think of something 
lovely for the west wing, and Jean and Bab got 
so interested in Hoppi they even dreamed about 
her, while Aunt Twilla and Ella were very busy 
making all sorts of dainty things for the new 

"We do want them to be happy," said Miss 
Twilla, smilingly. 

"Just as if anybody would n't be happy at Dui- 
ley," said Bab. "Why, Aunt Twilla, if I could 
have my own dear home folks with me, I 'd 
rather live here with you and Aunt Kate than 
anywhere on earth. And I do get a little jealous 
of Hoppi sometimes, for it seems she never can 
love you all as I do." 

"Well, I '11 tell you a secret, Bab, dear," com- 
forted Aunt Twilla. "You shall always be first 
in my heart right along with Jean. Sister Kate 
can keep her Sopchoppys to herself." 

"That 's so lovely of you, Aunt Twilla," said 
Bab, seating herself upon the floor at Miss 
Twilla's feet. It was very pleasant in Aunt 
Twilla's sunny sitting-room, with Ella sewing at 
the window, and Pollykins tiptoeing around the 
room "Poor meing" in an undertone. In vain 
did Bab try to teach her to say "Happy me." 
Pollykins preferred to pity herself. 

Bab was busy examining a strained link in the 
little chain Aunt Millicent had given her, and had 
lain the locket with the wee twinkling diamond 
Vol. XXXV. -io2. 

on the floor beside her, as she tinkered at the link 
with Aunt Twilla's scissors. But when she 
turned to pick up the locket, what was her dismay 
not to find it. 

"Why — why — it was just here this minute, 
aunty — this minute. My locket with the diamond, 
you know." 

"Well, it has n't gone far," consoled Aunt 
Twilla, "as neither you nor I have moved." 

"But — but it was here!" gasped Bab. 

Far across. the room went Pollykins, no longer 
muttering to herself, but scuttling along as if her 
life depended upon it. 

"Pollykins — she 's got it, she 's got it !" cried 

"Wait a minute, Miss Bab," said Ella softly. 

"Yes, wait," and Miss Twilla was growing a 
bit pale. 

For Pollykins had dropped the locket and had 
picked up with beak and claw a shoe-bag Ella had 
just finished for Hoppi's room. Taking up the 
locket again Pollykins set industriously to work, 
muttering and chuckling to herself. A moment 
later — evidently well pleased with herself — she 
went tiptoeing back to her perch. 

"Poor me, poor me, poor old me !" she said, 
demurely scratching her head as she teetered 
back and forth. 

"Ella—" moaned Miss Twilla. 

"Don't grieve, dear Miss Linsey, don't," begged 
Ella coming over and kneeling by her mistress's 
chair, as Bab came flying back to show them how 
neatly Pollykins had tucked the locket into the 
pocket of the shoe-bag. "I never thought of 
Pollykins myself. We all remember, you know, 
that I was cleaning the diamond crown that 
morning Mrs. Arrowsmith called to ask you 
about costumes for her fancy-dress ball. You 
sent me up to the wardrobe and I brought down 
a number of toilets, the sea-green among the rest, 
and laid them here on the table. I suppose I 
carelessly pushed the crown off without ever see- 
ing it, and Pollykins, attracted by the glitter of 
the diamonds, carried it off and, finding the reti- 
cule on the floor, — " 

"Oh, the wicked thing," cried Bab; "and so 
she stuck the crown into that little pink outside 
pocket, just as she did my locket into the shoe- 
bag. Oh, you bad, bad Pollykins ! No wonder 
you scratch your head and say 'poor me.' " 

"It grieves me so," said Miss Twilla, with a 
loving hand on Ella's. 

"Miss Twilla, you have been goodness itself to 
me. Please forgive yourself as I forgive you — " 

"Bab, Bab," broke in Jean's voice, as she came 
flying up the stairs. "Aunt Kate has just had a 
letter from the Sopchoppys, and they will be here 




next Wednesday — Thursday, for she says they '11 
be too tired to see anybody before — she 's going 
to have a lovely garden-party for them. Just 
father and mother and you and me and all the 
Trotts, and we are going to have toasts and 

"Oh, goody," cried Bab, ecstatically, forgetting 
Pollykins and the diamond crown. "Just four 
more days and we shall see that wonderful Hoppi. 
I suppose she will turn out to be a stupid Edith 
or Margery or Etta and, my goodness, maybe a 
Smith or a Brown ; but I shall never call her any- 
thing but Hoppi Sopchoppy, for it 's such a dear 
Chinesey name. I just love it. One, two, three, 
four more days ! Oh, how can we wait?" 

Chapter XIX 


Wednesday the sun arose and set in due time, but 
to Bab and Jean never had the hours crawled so 

Half an hour before the automobile made its 
way to the front door, the two girls sat in state 
upon the wide veranda. Bab frocked in pink and 
with a wreath of wild roses adorning her broad 
hat, and Jean all in palest blue. 

"Heighho ! Well, here we are," laughed Uncle 
Edgar as he beheld them. "Bound to charm 
Hoppi, I see. Well, she certainly will be hard to 
please if she is n't charmed ' y my two." 

"Honk, honk, honk," anc away dashed the big 
red car up the Serpentine. But they did n't for- 
get to stop to gather up a Trott or two, and at 
last gaily whizzed by the Rabbit and the 

"Tell them we 're coming," called Mrs. Trott 
merrily, as she sat, all in white, her face so young 
and happy under her big hat, beside Daddy Trott, 
who looked stiff and most uncomfortable, gotten 
up in his best for the occasion. 

Durley was in holiday array — any one could 
see that. There were flags and Japanese lanterns 
and a big, white tent that had blossomed out on 
the front lawn, while on the veranda stood Miss 
Kate and Miss Twilla, lovely in holiday apparel 
and gala-day smiles — but there was n't a Sop- 
choppy in sight. 

"Did n't they come?" gasped Bab. 

"To be sure, to be sure," chuckled Aunt Kate, 
stooping to kiss the eager little face under its 
rose-wreathed hat. "All safe over in the west 
wing — be here any minute. Ah, here come Seth 
and Bart — nice lads they are too — and there is 
Mr. Trott coming up the drive. My, what a joy- 
ous occasion !" 

Bab, still with Aunt Kate's arm around her, 

stood one moment just expectant eager little 
Bab Howard, but the next — pale, startled — then, 
swept up in a very cloud of gladness, off she 
sped. No one who saw that little flying figure, 
Wild with joy, ever forgot how she hurled herself 
away and away toward the west wing, crying in 
a voice that broke with very happiness : 

"Daddy-doctor, motherling — oh, my precious 
girls !" 

"Dear little Bab, dear little Bab," and Bab 
sprang into her mother's arms. 

"Why — why," gasped Jean, "it 's Uncle Robert 
and Aunt Mattie and the girls. But where are 
the Sopchoppys?" 

"Oh, you little goose," laughed her father, 
"and here I have said from the first, Aunt Kate 
might fool Bab, but never you !" 

Then everybody went into shouts of laughter, 
for everybody understood — everybody, that is, 
but Bab, who, beside herself with joy, clinging 
first to one, and then to the other, reached the 
steps at last. 

"Oh, Aunt Kate," she cried. "Is n't it just the 
loveliest thing that all my six should get here just 
in time for your party? And did you know they 
were coming all the time, aunty? And did you 
invite them to meet the Sopchoppys? Oh, moth- 
erling, have you seen Hoppi?" 

Then Aunt Kate gathered her up and swept her 
into the house, dear, foolish child, and stood her 
before the great hall mirror, while everybody 
trooped in after. 

"Bab," said Aunt Kate, "you are the brightest 
little thing to be so stupid, I ever knew. But it 's 
your dear, generous heart that makes you so. You 
have been so happy doing things for Hoppi and 
her family you never stopped to study it out. 
There, do you see that little girl in pink, with the 
turned-up nose, the freckles, and the one crooked 
tooth? Well, that is Hoppi, my dear, Hoppi Sop- 
choppy, whom every one loves most dearly." 

"That — that," and Bab shrank back from the 
mirror as all the loveliness of the situation swept 
down upon her. "Why, that is / — oh — the west 
wing — the sunken garden. To live at Durley 
with daddy and mother and the girls — and to be 
always with you and Aunt Twilla — " 

"And near me," broke in Jean. 

"And near us," cried the Trotts. 

"Yes, oh, yes — but, oh, Aunt Kate," and Bab's 
arms were around that dearest lady. "The room 
with the balcony and your eagle furniture, that 
was for the littlest girl — that you loved best — oh, 
Aunt Kate — it 's just the loveliest thing to be 
alive !" 

It certainly was the gayest, happiest day Dur- 
ley ever saw, and long after the sun had gone to 




bed away over in Jersey behind the Orange 
Mountains, the big red touring-car with Uncle 
Edgar and Aunt Millicent, Jean, and all the 
Trotts it could hold, had whizzed away followed 
by the meek Rabbit and the old barouche — long 
after Miss Twilla and Miss Kate, tired out but 
radiant, had said good night — the Howards sat 
on the broad stone steps that led down into the 
sunken garden, and talked. 

This, then, was to be their home. Mr. Linsey 
and Miss Kate had helped Dr. Howard to buy 
out old Dr. Bunts's practice, and better times were 
coming to them all ; and the girls were to study ; 
and life was to be so full and beautiful. Bab 
had hardly had time to take it all in yet, but just 
sat silent with her father's arm around her, and 
her mother's hand in hers, while she gazed at the 
headless Mercury and dreamed. 

"And, after all," said Patty, "we owe it all to 
Bab and her blessed little nose." 

"And how she has poked," laughed Cissy "the 

"Do you know, little daughter," said daddy- 
doctor, "from all that we hear, you 've been a 
very busy little girl since you came. You have 
been interfering right straight along without a 

let-up, bless your heart, just as I warned you 
before you started." 

"I really did n't mean it, daddy," said Bab in 
a meek little voice. "I '11 try to go slower." 

"You '11 try, dear child, you '11 try, I have no 
doubt," said daddy-doctor, with a twinkle in his 
kind eyes ; "but it 's such a chronic case with you, 
my dear, I don't want to discourage you, but I 
doubt if ever you 're entirely cured." 

"Don't tease her, daddy," said motherling, 
drawing Bab's head down upon her shoulder. "It 
has always been intended for a gentle interfer- 
ence. If there have been mistakes of judgment, 
it 's, after all, a very young head influenced by a 
very loving heart. But come, dears — " 
"It 's late as it is, 
And we won't have a penny," 
caroled Patty, "if we don't go to bed." 

A few moments later, Bab, ready for bed, 
stood at the window of her balconied room and 
looked down upon the garden. 

It lay there all placid in the moonlight, the 
white Flora, the little summer-house, the odd sun- 
dial, and through the gracious stillness came the 
tinkle-tinkle of the water from the satyr's goat- 
skin as it fell into the marble shell. 



-A Hunched 
ai^5s iVbm Now 

There 's a picture in the window 

Of a little shop I know, 
With boys and girls dressed as they were 

A hundred years ago. 
And since I saw it, I have thought, 

And keep on thinking how 
The children, maybe, will be dressed 

A hundred years from now. 



Will girls wear caps or farthingales, 

Or hoops in grand array? 
Will they wear bows like butterflies, 

Just as they do to-day? 
Will boys wear jackets short, or tie 

Their hair in queues? Just how 
They '11 really look, I 'd like to know 

A hundred years from now. 

What do you think the girls and boys 

Will eat in those far days? 
Will they be fed on breakfast foods 

In many sorts of ways ? 
Will all the good and tasty things 

Be worse for them than rice ? 
Will ice-cream soda make them sick, 

And everything that 's nice ? 

Will children's books have pictures then. 

Or just all reading be ? 
Perhaps they '11 be hand-painted and 

Most beautiful to see. 
But when I think of those I have, 

I truly don't see how 
They can be any prettier 

A hundred years from now. 





The burly cannon-cracker to the slender little flag 

Said, "How are you to celebrate the day ? 
You never make a single sound, you cannot jump nor shoot, 

And where they put you, there you have to stay." 

The rockets, Roman candles, and the giddy, racy wheels 
With patriotic zeal began to brag 

Of how they 'd leap and bang and fizz and flare and whirl- 
United to deride the silent flag. 

-and all 

But when the day was done, the crackers lay in scattered shreds; 

And bits of wheel were clinging to the trees; 
The rocket sticks were lying prone ; but high above the scene, 

The little flag still frolicked with the breeze. 

8i 3 




The Peppery Man was cross and thin; 

He scolded out and scolded in ; 

He shook his fist, his hair he tore; 

He stamped his feet and slammed the door. 

Heigh ho, the Peppery Man, 
The rabid, crabbed Peppery Man ! 
Oh, never since the world began 
Was any one like the Peppery Man. 

His ugly temper was so sour 

He often scolded for an hour ; ■ 

He gnashed his teeth and stormed and scowled, 

He snapped and snarled and yelled and howled. 

He wore a fierce and savage frown; 
He scolded up and scolded down; 

He scolded over field and glen, 
And then he scolded back again. 

His neighbors, when they heard his roars, 
Closed their blinds and locked their doors, 
Shut their windows, sought their beds, 
Stopped their ears and covered their heads. 

He fretted, chafed, and boiled and fumed; 
With fiery rage he was consumed, 
And no one knew, when he was vexed, 
What in the world would happen next. 

Heigh ho, the Peppery Man, 
The rabid, crabbed Peppery Man ! 
Oh, never since the world began 
Was any one like the Peppery Man. 





Like the great Montezuma of old Mexico, Chief 
Winnemucca, who was born and lived the most 
of his life beside Pyramid Lake, Nevada, had a 
thinking mind and a large, warm heart. He was 
chief of an Indian tribe called the "Piutes," 
and before any white men came over the Rocky 
Mountains to disturb them there were several 
thousand Indians to whom he was like a father. 
He saw to it that they had plenty of good food to 
eat, nice furs and skins to wear, and handsome 
tepees (or wigwams) for their families to live 
in. He had a good wife and many children of 
his own ; he was always very kind to them, and 
took much pains to teach all he himself knew to 
his eldest son, who was to be Chief Winnemucca 
after him. 

Seventy years ago the Piutes were a peace- 
loving and contented people. They knew how 
to gather in the swift antelopes from the plains, 
how to catch the deer and ensnare the wild tur- 
keys, and help themselves to all the game of the 
mountains round about their broad valley and 
clear lake in which they caught splendid speck- 
led trout and other choice fish. The Piutes never 
appeared to be as shrewd and smart as the Snake 
Indians, and they were not warlike ; yet with 
their bows and arrows they did drive off the 
thieves that came from their Indian neighbors, 
sometimes, to hunt in the mountains or fish in the 

Chief Winnemucca taught the Piutes very dif- 
ferent lessons from other Indian chiefs; for ex- 
ample, to love peace and make constant effort to 
keep it ; always to be kind one to another ; al- 
ways to tell the truth, and never to take for one's 
sel-f what belonged to another ; to treat old people 
with, tender regard ; to care for and help the 
helpless; to be affectionate in families and show 
real respect to women, particularly to mothers ; 
yet he and his Piutes had no books, no writing, 
no chairs, no furniture, almost none of those 
common articles that make our houses so com- 
fortable. Chief Winnemucca, from time to time, 
had wonderful dreams. One night he dreamed 
that some people who were different from the 
red men, would by and by come from the east; 
that they would be finer people than any he had 
ever seen, and that their faces would be of a 
white color, bright and beautiful. He stretched 

out his hands toward them and said: "My white 
brothers !" 

Some time before the great explorers, Lewis 
and Clark, crossed the plains and saw Chief 
Winnemucca's valley, a company of hunters 
from Canada came. They were usually named 
"Voyageurs," and were trying to collect precious 
furs. They hunted and trapped the beavers and 
foxes or bought skins from the Indians. Then 
these voyageurs would carry the furs to the 
nearest trading places and sell them at a good 
price to white traders. 

One day a party of these voyageurs came to a 
high plateau and, sitting on their hardy ponies, 
looked for the first time on Pyramid Lake. They 
were taking in the beauty of the scene when sud- 
denly a few Indians, riding furiously toward 
them, halted abruptly, and one Indian rode for- 
ward, making signs of good-will as he ap- 
proached. But the hunters were frightened and 
caught up their guns, though they did not fire. 
At this the Indian hurried- away, joined the 
others, and they all dashed into the woods and 
rode as fast as they could straight to Chief 
Winnemucca's wigwam. As soon as the ven- 
turesome Piute, much excited, had told all he 
knew about the appearance of strangers up there 
on the eastern plateau, asserting that they were 
well mounted on large ponies, that they were 
curiously dressed, and that they surely had white 
faces, Winnemucca cried out with joy: "They 
are my white brothers !" and after a few mo- 
ments, added : "I knew you would come ; you are 
the white brothers of my dream." 

Chief Winnemucca hastened with twenty of 
his Indians to meet the traders. All the Indians 
were mounted on little ponies adorned with cedar 
sprigs and some bright flowers fastened to their 
manes and tails. The Indians were afraid and 
kept close together, but the chief was happy and 
rode boldly ahead to meet his white brothers. 
Now the voyageurs were full of fear and, firing 
their guns in the air, motioned for the Piutes to 
stop. These unfriendly signs startled Winne- 
mucca. His heart bled as he saw his men hang- 
ing back in terror; but he could not forget his 
beautiful dream, so for a while he tried to draw 
nearer the strangers. They shouted angrily at 
him; but he got down from his saddle fifty or 
sixty yards away, put his strong bow and quiver 
of arrows on the ground, and spread out his arms 
as a sign of peace ; but the white men, believing 





him and his followers to be treacherous because 
they were wild Indians, would not let them come 
any closer. Now Chief Winnemucca had heard 
about some powder guns which warlike Indians 
had and he instinctively recognized these white 
men's rifles as weapons of war. Greatly disap- 
pointed, he and his party rode back to their 
pretty village, and next morning the voyageurs 
passed on westward. The Piutes never saw 
them again. 

It was not very long after this visit that an- 
other party of about fifty white men descended 
from the same plateau and encamped two miles 
below Pyramid Lake on the bank of a swift run- 
ning river. 

Again the good chief' went down as he had 
done before and tried his best by peace signs to 
welcome the strangers, but they would not let 
an Indian approach them. They even fired from 
loaded rifles to frighten the Piutes away. This 
time the Indians saw where the bullets struck the 
trees and bushes. But Winnemucca, after the 
white men had gone, reflected upon the cause of 
the white brother's fear of them. So he said : 
"I will not give them up, I will show them a 
brother's heart." 

He took a few of his principal men and had 
them bring with them their women and children. 
They followed the white men several days and 
encamped every night in plain sight. At last the 
white leader, prompted by his guide who knew 
something of Indian ways, decided that the Pi- 
utes meant no harm. Little by little they talked 
by signs. The Indians showed them how to 
avoid bad trails and some short cuts in their 
journey and always led them to the finest camp- 
ing places where they could have plenty of wood 
and good water. Every night they brought them 
a deer or an antelope. The leader of the white 
people was a generous and good man, so he and 
Chief Winnemucca soon became friends. After 
this success, which delighted his heart, the chief 
and his followers returned to their home on Pyr- 
amid Lake. 

The next company of white people going to- 
ward California were more numerous. With 
them was the American "path-finder," Capt. John 
C. Fremont, and he and Winnemucca communi- 
cated right away. They first met where the Union 
Pacific Railway now crosses the Truckee River — 
called by the Piute Indians Truckee because it 
means "all right." Fremont took a particular 
liking to the warm-hearted chief, and he asked 
him to lead a party of Piute scouts. The scouts 
consisted of the chief and eleven picked Indian 
men, and from that time Winnemucca was called 
Captain Truckee or All-Right. With Fremont, 

these Indians went all the way to California, and 
helped him while there in his contests with the 
Mexicans. They learned after a fashion to 
speak English, and Winnemucca could always 
make an American understand him. He was 
proud of his English, but prouder of a piece of 
tough paper on which Fremont had written a 
recommendation of "Captain Truckee." This the 
chief always called "My Rag Friend." 

Chief Winnemucca liked California so much 
that he decided after much thinking and talking 
with his people to go back to that beautiful and 
fruitful land. His son, who was to be the chief, 
Winnemucca Second, was put in charge of the 
whole tribe left behind, while Winnemucca 
took thirty families with him for the long jour- 
ney. Of his own family he took his wife, his 
daughter-in-law, and four of her children — they 
were named by their grandfather a little later : 
Natchez, Lee, Mary, and Sarah, two boys and 
two girls. Sarah, who was then six years old, 
was the youngest, and her grandfather's favor- 
ite, and he always spoke of her as "my sweet- 
heart." She was dreadfully afraid of white men, 
and would hide her face so as not to see them, 
and weep a long time if one spoke to her. The 
cause of this terror was that she once heard her 
father say the Piutes were to have great sor- 
rows and troubles from bad whites. 

A Sister of Charity succeeded in winning her 
heart. The result of this good lady's friendship 
was that Mary and Sarah learned to speak good 
English, and for a short term were taken into the 
Catholic boarding-school, but the feeling against 
all Indians among the whites was such that they 
declared they would take away all their children 
if Indians were allowed to come there. In Cal- 
ifornia Mr. Scott employed "Captain Truckee" 
and his Indians to care for numerous herds of 
cattle and horses, and the Indians on their ponies 
were most faithful and successful herdsmen. 

The chief, after about a year in California, 
heard that the sub-chief (his son, Winnemucca 
Second) and all the Piutes with him had had 
great trouble. At first two white settlers on their 
way west had been waylaid in the mountains, 
and robbed and killed with arrows. The arrows 
were left there and had on them the Washoes' 
marks, but the white people insisted that Piutes 
and the Washoes were all the same. Again, two 
wicked white men carried off two little Piute 
children and hid them. After a long search the 
two Indian fathers found them in a cellar, bound 
with cords. The Indians became enraged at this 
and killed the white men. 

Besides, a large party of white people came to 
Pyramid Lake as others had done before them. 




It was quite late in the fall of the year and Win- 
nemucca Second with most of his Indians was 
away hunting in the mountains. The Indians 
had left their winter supply of seeds, nuts, wild 

tiers, he and his followers began to lose all con- 
fidence in the "white brothers" that his good 
father had always trusted and defended. So the 
sub-chief kept all of the Piutes he could get to 


onions, and camas, and a large quantity of dried 
deer-meat and salted fish, carefully stored away 
near the Truckee River. The strangers helped 
themselves to what they could use, and burned 
up all the remaining food. 

Winnemucca Second became alarmed at this, 
and when a volunteer company came to punish 
the Piute Indians for the loss of the white set- 

Vol. XXXV. -103. 

stay with him in different camps in the moun- 

Hearing all this the old chief left his two 
grandsons to work for Mr. Scott in California 
and, taking with him his daughter-in-law and 
the two girls, Mary and Sarah, in a large wagon, 
guarded by several of his Indians, he drove five 
hundred miles back to Pyramid Lake. He sent a 




messenger to find his son and begged him to 
come back to the beautiful valley and have his 
people come with him. Here they met the chief, 
and the wise and good-hearted old man spoke for 
his white brothers once more. 

Beside the beautiful lake he lived for many 
years, and when at last he died, he called his son 
and told him never to forget his duty to his own 
people and to his white brothers. 


You all remember, in your school-books, the 
story of Pocahontas. Well, old Chief Winne- 
mucca had a grand-daughter who was a sort of 
Pocahontas of our own time, and whose story 
deserves to be told in this series; for as old 
Powhatan's life-history would be altogether in- 
complete without that of Pocahontas, so Winne- 
mucca's must include that of his grand-child, 

We called her Sarah Winnemucca, but her real 
name was Toc-me-to-ne, which means shell-flower. 
Have you ever seen these flowers growing in an 
old garden among their many cousins of the Mint 
family ? Well, Toc-me-to-ne loved them of all 
flowers best, so they called her "shell-flower." 

Her people were Piute Indians, and they lived 
in what is now the great State of Nevada. 

Toc-me-to-ne had a flower name, so she was 
allowed to take part in the children's flower festi- 
val, when all the little girls dance and sing, hold- 
ing hands and making believe that they are the 
very flowers for which they are named. They 
wear their own flowers, too, and after they have 
sung together for a while one will dance off on 
the grass by herself and sing: 

I am a daisy gold and white 
Somebody catch me — me! 

The grown-up people watch, too, as their children 
play, and Toc-me-to-ne was never happier than 
when dancing and singing her shell-flower song: 

See me! see me, a beautiful flower. 
Give me a hand and dance. 

Then after the plays and dancing the children 
had all sorts of good things to eat, and the flower 
festival was over for a year. 

Only three times did Toc-me-to-ne take part in 
the flower festival, for when she was quite a little 
girl her grandfather. Chief Winnemucca, took his 
family and went to live in California, and when 
they came back she was almost grown up. 

Her grandfather was very fond of her, and 
called her sweetheart, so she was sad and lone- 
some indeed when he died ; but she did not forget 

his last words to her before he went. "Sweet- 
heart," he said, "do not forget my white brothers ; 
be kind to them and they will be kind to you and 
teach you many things." 

In California the old chief gave to his grand- 
children new names — Natchez, Lee. Mary, and 
Sarah, and Sarah learned to speak fairly good 
English. Later, when she came to Pyramid 
Lake, she played with Mr. Ormsby's children and 
learned to speak better English. Besides this 
Mrs. Ormsby taught her to cook and sew and to 
do housework. 

When Sarah was fifteen years old she made 
the long five hundred-mile journey to California 
once more with her brothers and sister and her 
grandmother. Her brothers took care of cattle 
for good Mr. Scott, who had known and loved 
Chief Winnemucca, and he gave them good 
wages, several fine horses, and two ponies for 
Sarah and Mary to ride. The sisters had always 
ridden bareback like Indian men, but when 
Christmas came, Sarah was surprised to find a 
beautiful Mexican side-saddle from her brother 
Lee, and she learned to ride like the white ladies, 
and was very proud and happy. 

Now the Piutes always would wander about. 
They lived by hunting and fishing, not by farm- 
ing, so they moved from place to place wherever 
there was game. When they were in the moun- 
tains rough white settlers came to Pyramid Lake 
and caught almost all of the fish with nets, so that 
there were no fish when the Indians returned. 
This made the Indians angry, and so trouble be- 
gan. All this time Sarah was in California. 
Her father, Chief Winnemucca Second, and her 
mother were in Nevada, and she often heard 
good news from them, but one spring when she 
was seventeen years old two Indians came bring- 
ing the news from her father that he was in the 
mountains and wanted all his children to come to 
him, but especially Sarah. 

Starting on their ponies they began the jour- 
ney, riding beside the wagon where the grand- 
mother rode. It took twenty-five days to reach 
Carson City, but here their father and mother 
met them, and next day all went to see Governor 
Nye, whom Sarah told in English what her 
father, the chief, wanted to say. 

Governor Nye was very jolly and good, and 
when he knew how things really were he told 
the white settlers not to interfere with the In- 
dians, and sent soldiers from the fort to drive the 
rough men away ; so Governor Nye and Chief 
Winnemucca became good friends, as they never 
could have been but for little Toc-me-to-ne and 
her bright, intelligent speech. 

For the next year Sarah talked both Piute and 




English, and settled many little troubles. She 
was called friend both by the Indians and sol- 
diers, and her father and she thought often of 
old Chief Winnemucca's words and kept peace 
with their white brothers. 

But just as storm-clouds gather, so whispers 
came that there would be war between the sol- 
diers and the Piutes. One day some old men 
were fishing in a lake when cavalry soldiers rode 
up and fired at them. The Indians ran to their 
tepees near by, but the soldiers followed and 
hurt some of them. The captain of the soldiers 
thought they belonged to a band of bad Indians, 
and as he spoke only English none could explain. 
As soon as they understood the cruel mistake, of 
course, every one was very sorry and did what 
he could to make it right. One of Sarah's little 
sisters was badly hurt, but Chief Winnemucca 
and Sarah only spoke sadly of the "Lake Harney 
trouble," and were still friendly to the white 

About this time Sarah came down to Muddy 
Lake to help her brother Natchez, who was sub- 
chief there. Near by, Mr. Nugent, the Indian 
agent, had a big store, where he sold all sorts of 
things. Now Uncle Sam did not allow agents to 
sell shot and gunpowder to the Indians, but one 
day Mr. Nugent did sell some to a Piute Indian. 
The Indian rode away across the river very 
happy, but soon one of Mr. Nugent's men met 
him. He saw the shot and powder and in Eng- 
lish told the Indian to give them up. Of course 
the Indian could not understand and tried to 
ride on ; then the white man fired and shot him. 
The dreadful news spread among all the Indians 
and they were very angry, and said Mr. Nugent 
must die, because they believed he had let the 
Piute have the powder and then sent his man to 
shoot him on his way. 

Angry Indians rushed to Natchez and fright- 
ened women and children gathered around Sarah, 
but they both mounted their swift ponies and 
hurried away to save the agent's life if possible. 
The river at the ford was high. Sarah's pony 
stumbled in the swift current and threw her off, 
but her brother helped her to remount, and with 
wet clothes, on she still galloped to Mr. Nugent's 
house. When Sarah saw him she cried to him to 
get away quickly or the Indians would kill him, 
but he replied that he was not afraid and called 
his men to get their guns, saying he would show 
the rascals how to fight. Natchez and Mary 
begged him to go away till they could quiet the 
angry Indians, but he would not and told them 
to leave him. There was nothing else to do, but 
at the ford they met the angry Indians and 
stopped them. Natchez called a council in his 

tepee, and here he and Sarah succeeded in quieting 
the excitement for a time. Soon afterward word 
came that two white men herding horses near a 
place called Deep Wells had been shot by the 
brothers of the Piute Indian who bought the 
powder. Then Mr. Nugent went to Fort Mc- 
Dermit to get soldiers to punish the Indians. 

Now when the agent asked for soldiers the 
captain, who was a wise man, decided to know 
the truth first, so he sent two friendly Indians 
with a letter to Sarah. This is the letter : 

Miss Sarah Winnemucca : Your agent tells us very bad 
things about your people killing two of our men. I want 
you and your brother Natchez to meet me at my place to- 
night. I want to talk to you and your brother. 

(signed) Captain Jerome, 
Company M, 8th U. S. Cavalry. 

The Indians were terrified when Sarah told 
them what was in the letter and said : "Write, 
write ; you may be able to save us from a dread- 
ful war." Sarah had nothing to write with, but 
she said : "I will try," and with a sharp-pointed 
stick and some fish blood scratched off this letter : 

Hon. Sir : My brother is not here. I am looking for him 
every minute. We will go as soon as he comes in. If he 
comes to-night we will come some time late in the night. 

Yours truly, 

S. W. 

The messengers were hardly gone when Nat- 
chez and his men returned. They took fresh 
horses and he and Sarah started for the fort. 
She says : "We went like the wind, never stop- 
ping till we got there." When they arrived the 
wicked agent was with Captain Jerome, but 
Sarah told the whole story, and the Captain 
treated them well and promised to do what was 
right. Then the brother and sister, tired as they 
were, rode back to their tepee on Muddy Lake. 
The next day a good officer and some soldiers 
came and camped near them. The soldiers gave 
the Indians food and stood guard while Sarah 
and Natchez held meetings with their people and 
showed them how kind the soldiers had been. 
After this, because of the bad ways of Nugent, 
the commander at Fort McDermit had Natchez 
and many Indians come to the army post and 
pitch their tepees. Sarah lived with her brother 
and his wife, and was the interpreter and peace- 
maker ; and she persuaded the chief, her father, 
to get together as many as possible of the wan- 
dering Piutes and bring them to the fort. 

Sarah was sweet and handsome and very quick 
and able. When she grew older she married one 
of the young army officers, but later he went 
East and she returned to her own people and 




lived on the Malheur Indian Reservation. Here 
she was always called "the Princess" because of 
her influence over her people. 

It was in 1878 that the Bannock Indians 


started on the war-path in Idaho and, joining the 
Malheur Piutes, fought the white people wherever 
they went. This was called the Piute and Ban- 
nock War. The Princess, Sarah "Winnemucca, 
was riding near Fort Lyons, Idaho, when she 
heard of the trouble. She was on her way to a 
railway station at Elko, Nevada, hoping to go to 
Washington to try and have some wrongs put to 
right on the Malheur agency. When she heard 
the news she at once turned back and went to 
the sheep ranch near Boise City, and when I 
heard she was there I telegraphed to Captain 
Bernard, who was near by with some soldiers, 
to ask the "Princess" to go as a messenger of 
peace to the angry Indians. She said she would 
go, and, taking with her some true Indian friends, 
rode, in a day and a half, over one hundred 
miles. She was approaching the Indian camp in 
the dark and wondering how to get in unnoticed 
when she heard a sound. She called and an 

answering sign showed her it was an Indian. 
To her surprise and delight it proved to be her 
own brother, Lee Winnemucca. They had a long 
talk, and Sarah changed her usual neat dress for 
an old skirt and Indian blanket, painting her face 
and pulling a shawl over her head like the squaws. 
Then she went straight into the Indian camp and 
to her father's lodge among the nghti-ng war- 
riors, who never thought for a moment of what 
she was there for. When she saw her father she 
had a long talk with him in the Piute language, 
and begged him not to have war with his white 
brothers. Of course the Bannock Indians could 
not understand what she said, so they suspected 
nothing. As soon as it was dark Sarah went out 
quietly into the woods and waited. One by one 
Chief Winnemucca and his family with many 
of his followers stole out of the camp and joined 
her. Then she guided them to the sheep ranch, 
and there I met them three days after I had sent 
my telegram. With her sister-in-law Mattie for 
a companion, this Indian princess, Sarah Winne- 
mucca, became my guide, messenger, and inter- 
preter till the close of that fearful Piute and 
Bannock War. 

She did our government great service, and if 
I could tell you but a tenth part of all she willingly 
did to help the white settlers and her own people 
to live peacefully together I am sure you would 
think, as I do, that the name of Toc-me-to-ne 
should have a place beside the name of Poca- 
hontas in the history of our country. 



Ever since the defeat of the Piute nation at 
Steen's Mountain, old Winnemucca had steadily 
kept his place with the whites, he, his sons, and 
Sarah always using their influence to smooth 
away troubles. But Sarah's influence was no 
longer great because she had so linked herself 
with the whites ; yet her sympathies had al- 
ways been with her own people, their sorrows 
had lain on her heart, and she had worked faith- 
fully to help them. Her eyes sparkled and her 
face showed the delight she felt in recalling her 
savage childhood. She loved to dwell on the le- 
gends, traditions, feasts, and ceremonies that made 
up the life of the Indians before the white man 
came, and it was with a kind of sadness that she 
told of the day when her grandfather and his 
band were filled with surprise as they saw the 

* It happens that Colonel C. E. S. Wood had sent to St. Nicholas, several years ago, an account of Sarah Winnemucca 
which, at the risk of a possible repetition of General Howard's incidents, may well be printed here, as an added picture 
of Indian child-life and an Indian heroine. Colonel Wood, moreover, was an intimate friend and a comrade-in-arms 
of General Howard during the Piute and Bannock War. — Editor. 




first train of white-topped "prairie wagons" com- 
ing slowly toward them across the desert. 

She remembered very clearly how her mother 
hid her by burying her in the sand and whispered 
to her not to move or those things coming would 
eat her, — and she added: "That 's the sort of 
babies Indian babies are. I was scared to death, 
but I would n't make a noise or move till my 
mother came for me, not for anything." 

Her grandfather and the warriors crawled to 
the top of a low hill and watched the "tents" roll- 
ing over the plain and drawn by "queer buffalo 
with long horns." For three days they kept along 
with this wagon train, but the people in the train 
never suspected they were thus watched. 

Sarah liked to tell us all how the Indians 
from a distance often watched the passing trains 
of white traders. On one occasion Winnemucca, 
after assuring the white men of his peaceable in- 
tentions, actually visited their camp. When he 
left them they gave him a new tin basin and he 
wondered what on earth that could be for, till, 
like Don Quixote, he saw, of course, it must be a 
hat or helmet. So with great dignity he put the 
tin basin on his head and walked back to his peo- 
ple, who wondered at the beautiful head-piece, 
and gave him a new name, "The Shining Moon." 

Then the women ventured near, dragging the 
trembling children. Sarah remembered a horri- 
ble thing walking toward her which later she 
knew was a big man with bushy black whiskers 
all over his face. (She laughed, and said she 
had got used to such animals since.) But, of 
course, among Indians she had never seen a 
beard, so when this big man took the little Indian 
girl by the hand, she saw only a great nose and 
two staring eyes, and she says she must have 
fainted, for that is all she remembers. But after- 
ward her mother laughed when the little Sarah 
or Toc-me-to-ne (shell flower) as she was then 
called, told her of the great "demon owl" that 
had seized her. 

Thus Sarah loved to talk on, for there are few 
Indians born and bred in savagery who could 
talk English as Sarah could. She read the maga- 
zines and newspapers, wrote official letters, vis- 
ited Washington as the representative of her 
people, and was successful in her mission ; she 
taught the Indian children in school ; or she 
painted her face, wrapped a blanket about her 
and went among her people at the head of our 
scouts, engaged in active war against part of the 

She returned to her father, and took part in 
the Bannock and Piute Campaign of 1878. This 
outbreak was the work of a very young Indian. 
"Buffalo Horn" by name. He was a Bannock 

and belonged on the Fort Hall reservation. Only 
the year before this (1877) he had been our chief 
of Indian scouts in the campaign against Joseph. 

A council was held between the Bannocks and 
a part of the Piutes although Winnemucca was 
opposed to a war. While this talk was going on 
in the Piute camp, the frightened settlers who 
had escaped flew to the little mining town of 
Silver City, and here, excited and distrustful, 
they captured Sarah. 

These people made all manner of charges that 
Sarah was a spy in league with her people. 
Sarah and her little band were taken from the 
settlers by one of our officers who passed by in 
pursuit of the Indians. 

When she reached camp she told General How- 
ard her story— how they had ridden to where her 
father's people were camped. 

"I took my brother's blanket," she continued, 
"and dressed as a squaw. I painted my face. 


When we came near the camp there were a great, 
great many people and horses. I was afraid. 
But I went to my father's camp and talked with 
my people. I told them the soldiers were com- 
ing. They said they were really held prisoners 
by the Bannocks, and could not come away. I 
told them they must. 'Here,' said I, 'go hide your 
ponies in the bushes and after dark you can 
leave.' My brother Lee got a pony for me. After 
dark we slipped out, a few at a time, and stole 
away. We all agreed to meet at a certain place. 
"Lee and my father and I went out with about 
fifteen others. We journeyed all night. At day- 
light our horses were worn out, and we stopped 
at the place of meeting. Presently a man came 
up just as fast as he could and said my brother 
Jerry and some others of the last had been dis- 
covered and pursued ; that he had heard much 
firing and feared all were killed. Then the 
women began weeping and moaning, and all was 



trouble. My brother Lee said: 'I will go back 
and die with my people.' My father and I called 
to him, but he jumped on his horse and went. 
He blamed me for being the cause of all this and 
said I had brought nothing but trouble on them. 
Then my father started to go back. 'For,' said 
he, 'my son will be killed, then why should I 
live ?' Then said I to him : 'You must not go 
back ; here are women and children depending on 
you!' Then he waved his hand and said: 'What 
shall we do? If we try to go away, the Bannocks 
will kill us. If we stay, the soldiers will kill us.' 
Then he said to me: 'Sarah, go to the soldiers. 
Tell them where we are, and that if they do not 
hurry we shall be killed. Tell them to come to 
us, come at once. Spare not your horse, Sarah, 
but ride night and day.' Then I left him. Mattie 
(her sister-in-law) and I came just as fast as 
ever our horses could travel. Oh, I am afraid 
they are all killed ! There was only one gun 
among them. My father said : 'Come at once/ 
Why do you wait ?" 

Here Sarah broke down completely. Little 
Mattie standing behind her listened intently and 
seemed much frightened. 

The refugees were not killed, however, but 
were brought within our lines in safety. Sarah 
and her sister-in-law remained with the troops. 
Sarah acted as guide and interpreter and scout. 
The two women had their own tent, cared for 
their horses themselves, helped at the kitchen fire 
and the mess-table. They rode at the head of the 
scouts or went off alone on dangerous rides, 
bringing back valuable information. Not only 
did they read the trail as an open book, but they 
knew the Indian character so well that they 
would foretell the line of march and future plans 
of the enemy. When prisoners were taken Sarah 
was of great assistance as interpreter and by spread- 
ing her influence induced many to surrender. 

But an incident that brought tears more of joy 
than sadness to the women's eyes was our capture 
of a "hostile" one hot July day. We had fought 
the Birch Creek fight and the Indians were run- 
ning away as fast as they could and we were 

after them. Their Medicine Men had told them the 
spirits of dead Indians could fight for them and the 
whites would surely be overcome, so when they 
themselves had to give way, they were not as 
well prepared for flight as usual. Their women 
and children were with them as they retreated. 
We drove them through the pine woods and at 
last lost them as we slowly pushed along the 
rough trail. Here, in the wildest part of the wil- 
derness we found a fat, pretty little baby. Just 
think of a chubby little baby lying contentedly 
all alone in a great wilderness ! Its black eyes 
looked a great deal of surprise at us, but the 
small enemy did not seem to be "hostile" at heart. 
But whoever heard of campaigning with a baby. 
Ah ! But that is where the Indian baby is such 
a jewel. It never has aches or pains or temper; 
if it has it keeps them to itself. 

This baby was a stoic. But it could n't eat 
salt pork and hard bread for all that. It was 
really too young for the campaign. What were 
a lot of men to do about it? 

Well, by the women's help it was duly estab- 
lished at General Forsyth's headquarters, and 
Sarah hunted up two women among the prisoners 
and they were mustered in as nurses. The little 
savage was fed on soaked cracker till condensed 
milk was procured, and then it fattened on con- 
densed milk till General Forsyth was pardonably 
proud of the baby, and at the end of the war it 
was, through his and Sarah's and the nurse "Su- 
sie's" exertions, restored to its own mother who 
allowed herself to be captured and became a pris- 
oner in hopes of finding her little one. And she 
was as crazy with joy as if that wee brown baby 
was a genuine white one, and in her gratitude I 
think she would have taken its hundred nick- 
names along with the baby, if she could have 
pronounced them. 

At the close of the campaign Sarah accom- 
panied the prisoners of war to their new home 
on the Simcoe reservation, Washington Territory, 
and by the tireless perseverance, so characteristic 
of her, finally succeeded in getting permission for 
her tribe to return to their former homes. 


Our cat and dog, they know the Fourth, 

For both have gone away, 
And in the attic, and the barn, 

Prefer to spend the day. 

Florence R. Faxon. 


Charity May stepped briskly to and fro before 
the spinning-wheel which she had brought out to 
the door-stone of the gray farm-house on the hill. 
Occasionally she lifted her brown eyes from her 
work and gazed out over the rolling pastures of 
the fair island of Prudence or across the strip of 
bay to the Rhode Island shore. 

" 'T is a fine day, Polly," she said at length, to 
the small girl who sat beside her sewing. "I 
think perhaps mother will let us go out in the 
boat when our work is finished." 

"Oh, Charity! Does thee think she will?" 
chirped little Polly, in her excitement taking 
rather longer stitches than usual. ' 'T will be 
beautiful on the bay this morning." 

Charity studied the sea and sky intently. 

"There 's very little breeze stirring," she re- 
plied. "I am almost sure mother will say we may 
go for a while if we do our work particularly 
well. Take care of those stitches, Poll. The last 
ones had best come out. They will never earn 
thee a jaunt, but more like an extra long psalm." 

Polly pouted, but in a moment laughed and 
pulled out the offending stitches, crooning softly 
to herself as she set them again with great care. 
Charity worked with a will, and her task was 
soon finished. She disappeared into the house, 
and in a few moments her voice rang merrily 
through the open door. 

"Mother says 'yes,' Pollykins. Put up thy 
work for to-day." 

Sweet Mother May followed her elder daugh- 
ter to the door, and gazed lovingly after the two 
young figures. 

Though Charity was Polly's senior by five 
years, the sisters were loving comrades. They 
were both very happy when their brother Ben 
built for them a boat. It was a rough craft but 
staunch and seaworthy. Charity had strong young 

arms, and soon became expert with the oars, and 
even eight-year-old Polly quickly learned to pull 
away gallantly. 

This morning the boat lay on the sand where 
Ben had left it after a fishing trip the day before. 
Polly, with a joyful gurgle, climbed in, and took 
her seat in the stern. Charity pushed off with 
little difficulty, and they were soon floating on 
the wide bosom of Narragansett Bay. On this 
August morning the warm, blue haze made all 
distant points vague and indistinct. Presently 
Charity dropped her oars and sat still with 
clasped hands, and even Polly for once was quiet, 
as the little boat drifted with the ebbing tide 
down toward Newport and the ocean. 

"The French ships sailed out yesterday to meet 
Admiral Howe's squadron at sea, so Father was 
telling Ben last night," Charity said at last, break- 
ing the long silence. "How can men fight and 
kill each other in this lovely summer weather?" 

"Oh, Charity ! Do they really do such dread- 
ful things ? Does thee think it can be really true ?" 
and Polly lifted a horrified face from the water, 
in which she had been dabbling her dimpled fin- 
gers liberally bespattering her gray gown and 
white kerchief. 

"I fear it is, lambkin," her sister answered with 
a shadow for a moment in her dark eyes. "Ben 
said he heard firing over in Portsmouth when he 
was out fishing yesterday." 

A puff of wind coming over the water made 
Charity look up suddenly at the sun. 

' 'T is past noonday, sis," she said, "and we 
are a long way from home. We must start at 
once or mother will worry." 

Hastily picking up her oars she turned the boat 
away from the near-by Portsmouth shore, and 
headed for Prudence Island. As she settled her- 
self for the long pull homeward, something on a 






point of land directly in front of her caught her 
eye. She held her oars suspended and looked again. 

"That must be a signal of distress yonder," she 
finally said to her sister. "Turn about, Poll, and 
see what thee can make of it." 

Polly screwed her body around, and gazed with 
wide, blue eyes. 

"I see naught but a rag tied to a stick, 
said. "How thee affrighted me, Charity!" 

"Yes, but why should a rag be tied to a 
on that lonely point ? Some 
poor creature must be in trouble. 
We will go and see." 

"But, Charity, "objected the 
little girl, " 'T is lonely there, 
as thee says. Some one may 
hurt us. And then, too, 't is 
growing late, and the wind is 
rising. The bay is all white 
ruffles now. If we don't get 
home soon, I shall be afeared." 

" Don't fear, little one," 
Charity soothed, " sister will 
take care of thee. Sit still now. 
We will be only a few moments, 
and then if we both row I think 
we can get home before three." 
And she turned the boat again 
toward Portsmouth. 

Once on shore, she hesitated. 
Was she taking her little sister 
into peril ? 

" Would thee rather sit in the 
boat and wait for Charity?" 
she asked. 

" No, no," and Polly scram- 
bled hastily out and caught her 
hand. " I '11 not be left. I 
will go with thee. We will 
take care of each other." 

The two girls climbed the 
slope to the summit of a knoll, 
and there, a few feet away, was 
the little staff with its pitiful banner. They 
threaded their way through the tangle of bushes, 
stopping now and then to look and listen. All about 
the bayberry and sweet-fern had been crushed and 
trampled as by heavy feet, but nothing broke the 
stillness of the summer noontide save the bees 
buzzing over the flowers and the crickets chirp- 
ing in the grass. 

"There must have been a skirmish here yester- 
day," Charity said. 

Suddenly she stumbled and almost fell over 
something, and stopped with an exclamation. 
There, in the shelter of a thicket of bayberry, lay 
a man in the uniform of a British officer. 

Polly clung to her sister and began to cry 

At the sound of her weeping the man moved 
slightly, and opened his eyes. 

"Hush, little one," Charity whispered. "He 
cannot harm thee. He is badly injured. His 
leg is broken, I think." 

At her sister's assurance, Polly took courage 
and stopped crying. Coming closer, she exam- 
ined admiringly the scarlet coat with its trappings 



of gold. To the little Quaker lass, who had never 
before seen anything but sober garments, it 
seemed wonderful indeed. 

But it was Charity's turn to look distressed. 

"We must get him into the boat and take him 
home at once," she said. 

"But how, Charity? He looks heavy," and 
Polly surveyed the prostrate man doubtfully. 

"I don't know," answered her sister, "but we 
must find a way," and she gently touched the 
gold-braided sleeve. Again the soldier opened 
his eyes. Suddenly he made a weak effort to rise. 

"Can thee not move a little way now, if we 
help thee ?" Charity asked, looking out a bit 




anxiously across the wide strip of water to Pru- 
dence Island. A fresh westerly wind had sprung 
up, and Polly's "white ruffles" of an hour ago 
had become whole caps now. 

Once more the soldier endeavored to rise, and 
this time, with the girls' help, succeeded. 

"If thee can only get down to our boat," Char- 
ity urged, "we can take thee home, and then 
mother will care for thee." 

"Come, poor soldier," Polly echoed. "Dear 
mother will make thee quite well." 

A smile crossed the officer's pain-drawn face. 

"Bless your dear heart, pretty one," he said. 

Limping painfully with the stiffened leg drag- 
ging, he made his way to the beach, Charity just 
behind him, supporting him when he stopped to 
rest, and Polly by his side patting his red sleeve 
when she felt he needed encouragement. The 
man's breath came in gasps, but he smiled at his 

"Good little Samaritans," he whispered. 

Suddenly Polly cried out, "Oh, Charity ! Look, 
there 's a storm coming!" 

Sure enough. Over the high shoulder of Pru- 
dence Island, great masses of purple cloud were 
rolling heavily eastward. The wind was increas- 
ing almost to a gale, too. One of the sudden, 
violent storms of the region was approaching. 

"We must get home before it breaks." Charity 
spoke calmly, but for a moment her heartbeats 
quickened. "There is no shelter hereabouts." 

Making a last, supreme effort the soldier rolled 
into the boat and fainted. 

"Never mind him, Polly," Charity commanded. 
"Thee must take the other pair of oars and pull 
for dear life." 

A low growl of thunder in the west served to 
turn Polly's attention from their wounded pas- 
senger. She caught up her oars and rowed like 
the brave little woman she was. 

"What time does thee* think it is, Charity?" she 
inquired once. 
> "After three a good bit," her sister answered. 

"Mother will be worrying," the little girl said, 
with a slight shiver. 

"Yes, mother will be worrying," her sister re- 
peated, looking over her shoulder at the approach- 
ing clouds. She fully realized what Polly only 
felt, that they were in a perilous position. 

Wind and tide were both against them, but 
they made good progress for some little time. 
The young man at their feet moaned now and 
then and moved uneasily, but the two rowers 
pulled steadily on. 

^"Mother will care for him, once we reach 
home," Charity said, looking back again at the 
clouds, which had now rolled over the sun. 
Vol. XXXV.— 104. 

It grew suddenly dark on the bay, the wind 
died away slowly and the sea became oily. In 
the lull the rowers paused to rest. Suddenly a 
vivid flash of lightning rent the darkened sky, 
followed by a crashing peal of thunder. The 
girls in the boat sat motionless, petrified with ter- 
ror. For a blinding, deafening moment, sea and 
sky seemed to meet. Then the squall shrieked 
down upon them in all its fury. 

Charity's cap blew off, and her dark hair waved 
wildly about her face, but she flung the whole 
weight of her slender body upon the oars, pulling 
valiantly, and shouting through the din for Polly 
to do the same. One moment of hesitation on 
the part of either would have caused disaster, 
but, guided by the two pairs of oars, the little 
craft kept her nose pointed to the seas, and rode 
out the gale. The worst of the blow was over in 
a few minutes, and then sheets of rain began to 
fall. Through the storm the young mariners 
rowed bravely on toward the home shore, and, 
after a half hour of hard work, pulled into the 
calm water inside the point. 

When the storm clouds had all rolled over, 
leaving the western sky aflame with gold, and a 
rainbow spanned the bay, promising a beautiful 
to-morrow, Charity and Polly, once more in spot- 
less caps and kerchiefs, were sitting on the 'old 
door-stone hand in hand. 

"I 'm glad we saved the young man," Polly re- 
marked happily, "and I think his red coat is very 
pretty, even though 't is wicked." 

"Dear little Poll," Charity answered with a 
half smile. " 'T is not wicked for him to wear 
a red coat He wears red, the color of his king, 
just as we wear the gray of the Friends." 

"I wish Friends wore red then, if 't is not 
wicked. I like it," Polly said decisively. 

"For shame, Polly," her sister admonished. 
"If Elder White should hear thee, he would say 
again that mother is not strict enough with us." 

Up-stairs the British officer, his injury having 
been found to be only a bad strain, lay in Mother 
May's lavender-scented best-room bed. He was 
now fairly comfortable and had told his story. 

When the French ships had been lured from 
Newport harbor by the appearance of Admiral 
Howe's fleet, the British troops had marched out 
of the city, and succeeded in driving the Ameri- 
cans from the island, though not without severe 
loss. In the battle on the downs, he, Sir Hugh 
Grantham, major in his Majesty's Sixty-third 
Foot Regiment, met with an accident. His horse 
was shot, and fell instantly, pinning him be- 
neath its body, and injuring his right leg. He 
with difficulty crawled away from the scene of 
the combat, and, when the British retreated to 



the city, was left unnoticed in his place of refuge 
under the bushes. Next day, he succeeded in 
dragging himself nearer the shore and hoisting 
a signal of distress, a bit of his shirt-sleeve tied 
to a stick. 

The young soldier improved steadily under the 
kindly care of the Quakers, and soon was able to 
limp down-stairs, and often joined the children 
in their favorite working-place on the old door- 
stone. He proved a merry companion, telling 
many stories of his home across the sea, the old 
red manor-house among the great oak-trees, 
where his mother lived with his little sister Mar- 
jory, whom he declared Charity strongly resem- 
bled. Polly rejoiced greatly when he once more 
donned the beautiful red and gold coat. 

"It is so gay," she said, patting it often. "I do 
like it." 

"Dear heart!" its wearer cried one day, catch- 
ing her up, "I believe you are a little turncoat. 
I think you would really change your peaceful 
gray for warlike red. Is it not so?" 

"Yes," and Polly struggled to be free. "I 
would. Does thee not think I could be as good 
a girl in a red coat as in a gray one?" 

"Perhaps," he answered gravely; "but certainly 
you could not be a braver little maid." 

At last the day came for Father May to take 
Major Grantham over to Newport, whence he 
was to sail for England with his regiment, and 
two very sorrowful little lasses in white caps 
and kerchiefs watched their father's boat out of 

They missed their friend sadly and they had 
not forgotten him, when, in the early spring, a 
boat came up from Newport bringing letters and 

a large box which had just arrived from over the 
sea. The letters were from the major and 
his mother, thanking the Mays once more for 
their kindness to the wounded "redcoat," prais- 
ing the bravery of the little girls, and begging 
that the family accept the contents of the box 
with the heartfelt gratitude of the Granthams. 
Marjory sent many loving messages to Charity. 

When the great box was opened, wonderful 
treasures were disclosed, beautiful things such as 
the simple New England Friends had seldom 
seen. Books for Father May and the boys, fine 
linen and delicate china for the mother, some 
heavy silver spoons for Charity's dower-chest, 
"just like Marjory's" the letters said, and, down 
in the very bottom something red. As Mother 
May drew it out, Polly began to dance. 

"For me!" she cried, "is it not, mother dear?" 

Her mother looked at the label a little doubt- 
fully, and then suddenly smiled, as she saw her 
little girl's shining face. In another moment 
Polly was shaking out before the admiring eyes 
of the family a beautiful, long, scarlet cloak. 

"May I wear it, mother? Will thee not say I 
may?" she begged. 

And Mother May, wise woman that she was, 
still smiling answered gently, "Thee may wear it 
sometimes, my dear." 

And Polly did wear it until the Friends in 
Providence City heard of the frivolous red cloak 
down on Prudence Island, and sent a stern letter 
of remonstrance to Mother May. Then it was 
laid carefully away and has been kept safely 
through many, many years, and Polly's great, 
great, grand-children treasure it still as a me- 
mento of their little Revolutionary ancestress. 



Happychapter VII 

| . Skiddoodles ! 
frf Lend me your 
ears !" 
Said old Hiram 
loudly ; 
Some fright- 
ened Skid- 
doodles hid 
under their 
For most of 
them had n't 
an ear to 
their heads ! 
But the Hap- 
pychaps off- 
ered theirs 

"Ho ! Ho !" cried old Hoppergrass, laughing 
As he noticed the scurrying Skiddoodle crowd, 
"Hey ! don't run away ! 
Come back here and stay ! 
Don't think for a moment I mean a real ear ! 
That 's a figure of speech. I mean : listen and 
hear !" 

Much relieved, the Skiddoodles came back to 
their places, 

With smiles of content on their dear little faces, 

And listened with eager and earless attention 

To whatever the eloquent Hiram might men- 

I must tell you the scene 
Was the big village green ; 

And Skiddoodles and Happychaps came to find 

What old Hoppergrass could be talking about. 

You see Jollipopolis proudly could boast 

^jgfe^** 1 *" 

Of a green that could hold a million, at most ! 
For its citizens (as you well know) were n't 

And they crowded together like seeds in a fig. 
Well, on a great stand 
(The kind they call grand) 
Hiram Hoppergrass made a big speechification 
Recommending a Fourth of July celebration. 
'We Skiddoodles," he said, "have always done 

And I think an omission would be quite amiss." 
Then General Happychap, handsome and bland, 
Exclaimed : "I am sure that you all understand 
The Day that we celebrate all over this land, 
And 't will be a new thing to Happychap folk, 
For, you see, we were housed in Centennial 

Ever since this triumphant American nation 
Made cause for a Fourth of July Celebration. 


And, indeed, and forsooth, 
To tell you the truth, 
I cannot deny, 
No notion have I 
Of what ought to be done on the Fourth of 

The Skiddoodles their laughter could scarcely 





But as they were polite, they tried to refrain 
From making the blunder 
Of showing their wonder ; 
And at Hiram's admonishment 
Hid their astonishment; 
And yet their surprise 
Could be seen in their eyes. 
To think anybody 'most half an inch high 
Did n't know how to celebrate Fourth of July! 
'Of course," said old Hiram, with courteous tact, 
'We Skiddoodles well know that it is a fact 

With just the same hubbub they kicked" up be- 
fore ! 

A flicker and flash ! 
A clang and a clash ! 
A clatter and clamor ! a crack ! and a crash ! 
And what was the cause of this hullaballoo? 
Why, Fourth of July ! and the Red, White, and 
'Blue ! 

'T was just about — nearly- 

-'most daybreak. At 


That all of you Happychaps 
Were very nappy chaps ; 
And being in bed for more than a century, 
You were just as 'shut in,' as in some peniten- 
"Quite so," said the General; "now, I propose 
That the whole of the day, from its dawn to its 

Hoppergrass takes the whole celebration in 

And I hope that he '11 make it both brilliant and 

Whiz ! Rattle-te-bang ! 

Boom ! Clingety-clang ! 
The cannons went off, and the village bells 

With a snap and a snort, 

And a deafening report, 
Sounded rifles and guns of every sort. 

And as they exploded, 

Again they were loaded, 
And then they went off with a boom and a roar, 

The sun had just poked his nose up in the east, 
And Skiddoodles and Happychaps sprang from 

their beds, 
Tightly (for safety's sake) holding their heads, 
And gallantly marching right past their front 

They saw the white-plumed Jollipopolis Guards ! 
A crack regiment, this, 
With nothing amiss ; 
From their spurs to their helmets the pink of 

For General Happychap made the selection. 
The trills and the toots 
Of their fifes and their flutes, 
Were mingled with firing of noisy salutes. 
While the blare of the trumpets and roll of the 

Could be heard o'er the banging and bursting of 

Well, in just half a jiffy, as you may suppose, 
Happychaps and Skiddoodles jumped into their 

They hustled their feet 
In a manner quite fleet, 
And in less than a jiffy were down in the street. 




Some Happychaps 

Had pistols with caps; 

Some had fire-crackers, 

And some snicker-snackers. 
But all men and women and all girls and boys, 
Had firearms of some sort to make a loud noise. 

So the racket and fun 

On the Fourth was begun ; 
Though the panes of the Fireflies' House broke, 

one by one. 
Outside of that, little damage was done. 
Old Chief Dewdrop, for instance, was thrown 

from his horse, 
When a big cracker went off with terrible force. 
The cracker went off — and Dewdrop did, too ! 
But he only jumped up and cried: "Whoop-a- 

ma-roo \" 
An American flag was proudly unfurled, 
The noblest, most glorious flag in the world. 
To Jollipopolitans it was endeared, 
And its stars and its stripes were exultingly 

cheered ! 
There took place in the morning a "Horribles' 

Parade" ! 
And all sorts of jokes on the people were made. 

Ridiculous floats 

Represented queer boats; 


Was made up as an owl, with great, blinking 

Messenger Happychap 

Received many a clap 
As old Rip Van Winkle, enjoying his nap! 


And showed up the foibles of this one or that, 
Hoppergrass very thin, and Hoptoad extra fat. 
Even General Happychap had to be guyed, 
As, covered with medals and puffed up with 

Percy Porcupine threw quills, in hopes they 'd 

stick in, 
But they harmlessly lit on old Tim Terrapin. 
A game of golf Duncan McHappychap tried; 
But he broke his sticks and his strokes all went 


Poor Toots got a jar 
As he fell from his car, 
And wearily dragged the machine from afar. 
Professor Happychap, solemn and wise, 

In glee they applauded each float and each raft, 
For nobody minded how much he was chaffed. 
And as the procession went lumbering by, 
The Rah-Rah Boys shouted Hip-Hip-Hooray ! 

For the afternoon there was planned an ascen- 
Of a monster balloon of wondrous dimension. 

Some shouted "Hurrah I" 

When this sight they saw; 
But others just held their breath with awe. 

The balloon soared high, 

'Most up to the sky ; 
But it was a fire-balloon, you see, 


l^AHA T 5 'X .[ At r 

And as it sailed higher, 

It somehow took fire, 
And then all were scared as could be ! 
Then Timothy Terrapin, clever old fellow ! 
Calmly opened his "umberellow," 
And holding it like a parachute, 
To the balloonists, said simply, "Scoot !" 
They all jumped into the queer life-boat, 
And thus to earth they could safely float. 
Though some little Skiddoodles fell out in the 

No one was injured and no one was hurt. 
But you all know how newspapers act, 
And that funny old Daily Buss ( for a fact ! ) 
Got out an "Extra!" and newsboys screamed: 
"Balloon on fire ! 

Disaster dire ! 

Great holocaust ! 

All lives are lost ! 

Happychaps burned ! 


»<£ -'^^^f^***/,'/,,, ,• 


Details not learned ! 

But those we cherished, 

In flames must have perished ! " 
An awful thing it seemed ! 
But would you believe those newsboys' capers? 
They rushed right off to sell their papers — 
Without waiting to hear of Timothy's "flight" 
And that no one was killed the leastest mite, 
And how everybody came down all right. 
In the evening, fireworks were all the go, 
And they were a sparkling, spectacular show. 
Bombs and rockets and Catharine-wheels, 
Flower-pots and sizzling snakes and eels; 

And gay Greek fire, 

Like a blazing pyre; 

H A R K I S 

f A t> Y 





FOURTH of jutf 


Then the Star-Spangled Banner streamed out 

frorruits pole, 
And a thrill went through each little patriot soul ; 
"And the rockets' red glare, 
The bombs bursting in air, 


And Roman candles whose stars went high, 
And mixed with the others up in the sky. 

Then the fireflies swarmed, 

And quickly formed 
Themselves in a glittering "set piece," bright 
Whose sparkling pattern spelled 
"Good night!" 


that our flag was 

Gave proof through the night 

still there! " 
For all Happychaps and all the Skiddoodles, 
Are loyal, true-hearted, and brave Yankee 
Doodles ! 




We are very, very many, and although so small we be, 
With our numbers we are able to control the mighty sea. 

You may tread on us at pleasure, but remember, as you go, 
That we keep a faithful record of your passing to and fro. 

So, if you are bent on mischief, kindly go some other way; 
Let us have no guilty secrets to conceal or to betray; 

For it pleases us far better when we share your lawful sports 
And you pile us up and shape us into monuments and forts. 

Answer : The sands of the seashore. 






When Mother drops things on the floor, 

My father asks me: "Who 
Should always pick them up for her?" 
And so I always do. 
He says I have n't far to reach 

And that a gentleman 
Must do things for his Mother 
And be helpful as he can. 

But Mother bends down just the same,— 

She has to, don't you see ? 
For after she 's said "Thank you, dear," 

She stoops and kisses me. 


When cook is baking you can help, 

If Mother says you may; 
But p'rhaps the best help you can give 

Is just to stay away. 


There 's a time to run and a time to walk; 
There 's a time for silence, a time for talk ; 
There 's a time for work and a time for play ; 
There 's a time for sleep at the close of day. 
There 's a time for everything you do, 
For children and for grown-ups, too. 
A time to stand up and a time to sit, — 
But see that the time and actions fit. 

Vol.XXXV. -105. 



A baby came to our house, 

Not very long ago, 
And Father says we '11 keep it here 

'Cause Mother loves it so. 
I did n't understand at first, 

My heart felt very sore. 
It seemed to me that Mother 

Would n't love me any more. 

But Mother took me in her arms, 

Just as she used to do, 
And told me that a Mother's heart 

Was hig enough for two, 
And that she loved me just the same. 

Because of this, you see, 
The place I have in Mother's heart 

Is always kept for me. 

And the birds and I, 

And the great, tall whisp'ring trees, 
Are all as happy as happy can be, 

Out in the Summer breeze. 

There is time to play 
All the live-long day, 

For our holidays are here; 
I 'm free as the birds and happy as they— 

School 's over for the year ! 









i HAT evening, after dark, the little Cub Bear heard the beaver go 

" Bang ! Bang ! " and he rushed to the mouth of the cave to see 

who was coming. He saw a very strange-looking animal coming 

up the path. He said, " I see an animal that is about the size 

of a rhinoceros, only he has no horns on the end of his nose, 

and he has the biggest nose I ever saw, — about the size of the 

seat of a chair. His teeth are as big around as the leg of a 

chair. His mouth is so large that a little bear could sit inside 

of it. His legs are almost as big around as an 

elephant's legs, only they are very short." 

Just then the owl said, "Who-o-o-o? 
Who-o-o-o ? " The animal did n't say a thing, but 
he gave a great snort, and the Circus Bear said, 
" I know who that is. That is Mr. Hippopota- 
mus. In the Circus they called him ' Sam.' ' Just 
then the hippopotamus came up to the door of the 
cave, and the little Cub Bear said very politely, " Come in, Mr. Hittopotamus." 
You see, it was such a long word he could n't pronounce it right. 

So Mr. Hippopotamus came into the cave, and as he did so, he gave a great 
yawn, which frightened the little Cub Bear so that he ran way back to the back 
part of the cave. The hippopotamus said, " Don't be afraid, little Cub Bear, 
I would n't hurt you for anything. I am a very kind animal even if I am big 
and have a big mouth." 

But after a little while the little Cub Bear was n't scared any more, and he said, 
"Mr. Hittopotamus, we are going to fix up the cave large enough for all the 
animals, and we want to know if you can help us ? " The hippopotamus said, 
" I would be very glad to help you if I can, because your brother was very 
good to me when we were in the Circus." And the little Cub Bear said, " What 
can you do?" "Well," he said, "I don't know. I can't dig in the dirt, because 
when I am at home, I live in the water." Well, the little Cub Bear thought a 
long while, and he could n't think of anything the hippopotamus could do, so he 
said to his papa, "Papa, can you tell me what the hittopotamus can do to help 
us in building our house ? " And the Papa Bear said, " I don't know. I think if 
he would go down and live in the lake above the dam that the beaver built, that 
would be the best place for him, and he could help the beaver to make the dam 



hio-her, and then when the beaver went to sleep, the hippopotamus could make 
some kind of a noise to warn us when people were coming." 

So the hippopotamus said he would do this, and he went down to the lake. 
Just before he left he said, " I am very hungry, and I would like something to eat." 


The little Cub Bear said, "We have plenty of meat here, if you would like some 
meat." The hippopotamus said, " I don't eat meat. I eat grass like a horse, 
only the grass I eat I get away down under the water." The little Cub Bear 
said, "Then you will find plenty to eat down in the lake." 

And the hippopotamus went down to the lake, where he got acquainted with the 
beaver, and planned to live there as long as the animals were living in the forest. 


The next day the monkey was telling the little Cub Bear about the chariot races 
they had in the Circus ; how the men would hitch up four beautiful snow-white 
horses to one chariot, and four coal-black horses to another chariot, and then race 
around and around the track in the Circus ; and how everybody in the Circus 
would be as excited as could be. The little Cub Bear said, "Why can't we have 
a race ? You know the four beautiful black horses are down at the foot of the 
mountain in a little valley, and the four snow-white horses are down at the foot 
of the mountain, in another valley. Perhaps we can get them up here and run 
a race. Don't you think it would be fun to run a race ? " And then the 
monkey said, "You never learned how to drive horses. I learned how, in the 
Circus." But the little Cub Bear was very brave, and said he would try, any- 
how. He would never be afraid of a horse, he said. 




So the next morning they went down to see if they could get the horses to 
come up and run the chariot race. Jumbo saw them going, and asked where 
they were going. The monkey told him, and Jumbo said that was fine. He 
would be very glad to act as judge of the race, and that he would go half-way 
down the mountain and draw a line, and that the first one to get over the line, 
would win the race. So the monkey went down and told the black horses and 
the white horses what was wanted, and they all agreed that they would be very 
glad to come up and run a race, just as they used to in the Circus. 

So they all came up to the den, and they were the most beautiful horses you 
ever saw. It took the monkey a long while to hitch up the horses. The bears 
helped him all they could. All four of the white horses were hitched to one of 
the red and gold chariots, and the four black horses were hitched to the other 
red and gold chariot ; and the monkey chose the white horses, and the little bear 
chose the black horses. The monkey got into his chariot and took the reins, 
and little Cub Bear climbed into his chariot and took the reins, and looked over 
to see how the monkey held them, and he tried to hold them the same way. 
Then the monkey said, " How are we going to know how to start, so we can both 
start together? " And the Circus Bear said, " I will tell you what to do. We 
will get the beaver to slap his tail on the water, and that will be just as good as 
firing a pistol. When you hear the noise, you both start at the same time." 

So the owl flew down and told the beaver what to do. And they both waited, 
all ready to start, the moment they heard the noise. Soon there was a sharp 

" bang ! " and the horses all started, just as though 
they had been shot out of a gun. The Cub Bear 
let go the reins the very first thing and just hung 
on to the chariot for dear life. The monkey looked 
over and laughed. The black horses were getting 
ahead of the white ones, and they were running 
down hill at a terrible rate. 

Papa Bear came out of the cave just then, and 
he was terribly frightened, because he felt that his 
little Cub Bear would surely be killed. But the 
horses had run so many times that they were not 
afraid at all. They were going like the wind. 
First the white horses would be a little ahead, and 
then the black horses would be a little ahead. 
The little bear hunof- on as tight as he could, and 
he looked straight ahead of him. Suddenly, he 
saw a stump right in the way, ahead. The horses 
saw it at the same time, and two of the horses 
went on one side of the stump and two on the 
other, and the chariot ran right into the stump 
with a terrible smash and crash, and broke the 
chariot all to pieces. One wheel rolled down the hill one way, and the other wheel 
rolled down the hill the other way, and two of the black horses went in one 
direction, and two of the black horses went in the other direction, and the little 
Cub Bear rose right in the air just exactly as if he had been a woolly foot-ball. 




When his papa looked to see what had happened, he saw him come down 
all safe and sound and then roll on down the long hill. And just when the 
monkey thought he surely would win the race, he saw a great stone ahead of 
him, and two white horses went on one side of the stone and two white horses 
on the other, and the chariot ran " smash ! " right into the stone, and two white 
horses ran in one direction and two white horses ran in the other direction, and 


one chariot wheel rolled down the mountain one way and the other chariot wheel 
rolled down the mountain the other way, and the monkey rose right up in the 
air, just as though he had been shot out of a gun. 

The elephant was standing at the line, and just as the monkey flew past him in 
the air, he reached out and caught hold of the monkey's tail with the thumb and 
finger on the end of his trunk and swung him on top of his back. And just as 
he caught the monkey by the tail, the bear rolled across the line, like a great big 
rubber ball. And that was the end of the race. The elephant never could make 
up his mind which won the race, the monkey or the bear. 

The little Cub Bear was not hurt a bit, and so he wanted to try again the next 
day, but the Papa Bear would not let him, because the Papa Bear was afraid the 
little Cub Bear would get hurt. Anyhow the chariots were both broken. 

And now we must say " good-by " to the Bear Family and their friends. 



Whether we flush the ruffed grouse from the 
ground or from a tree, or discover him walking 
quietly about his business, the meeting is sure to 


be a surprise and a pleasure. On the one hand 
the powerful bird dashing off with a whir and a 
roar, on the other a strutting beauty full of self- 

Just at this time the eggs are about hatching, 
and we may find the mother with her brood or, 
perhaps, among the leaves, a nest with eggs; it 
will be beside a log or stump in the wood. All is 
quiet except for the occasional song of an oven- 
bird, until from the bush and low weeds a whir 
of wings startles us, and at the same time we see 
a brown body bound off a few yards and fall to 
the ground, to repeat the manceuver again and 
again as we approach. Maybe, too, you noticed 
a suspicion of scattering among the leaves at first. 
Now the way to find out what all this means is to 
return to the place from which the grouse started, 
conceal ourselves as best we can and wait. All is 
still for about a quarter of an hour ; then a soft 
distant mewing is heard. The sound soon comes 
closer and in the five minutes more the weeds part 
and there, about fifty feet away, stands the 
grouse, calling gently, watching alertly. Now a 
faint little peeping greets us; soon there is peep- 
ing from all sides and a little buff chick is seen 
scrambling over the leaves toward its mother; 
another ventures out, then another, all coming 
from under the leaves in response to their par- 
ent's call. The brood, to the number of about a 
dozen, around her, she leads them out of sight 
into the woods. 

This little fellow pictured among the leaves 
was found in a bushy place at the edge of a pas- 
ture where the writer was strawberrying. He ap- 




peared to be the last of the brood, since a careful 
search and patient waiting failed to show the 
slightest sign of another chick; he was only a few 


days old. When but a few weeks old a young 
grouse is not easily distinguished from bob-white 
as he goes whizzing off through the brush and 
close-growing trees. 

Even in summer, when not in charge of the 
nest or young, the ruffed grouse is timid. In the 
autumn all the bird's native wildness is developed. 
When the shooting season is near its close you 
may walk through a wood where they are plenti- 
ful without seeing a single bird; only a distant 


It would look rather droll, would n't it, to see a 
cucumber start up and crawl out of the garden? 
Well, the sea has a little creature who looks so 
much as if he might have done this, that he has 
gamed the name of the sea-cucumber 

He is, in fact, the most ridiculous little fellow 
in his looks and habits to be found in the ocean. 
He can draw his body out far beyond its real 
length until he looks like a worm, or he can 
shorten it until he is round and pudgy. 

He has rows of tube feet with suckers under 
his body, or along the edge, so that if you turned 
him over, he could easily right himself. 

He belongs to the same spiny-skinned family 
as the starfish and sea-urchin, but instead of 
spines he has a few small, hard plates within his 
body, and so tough a skin that a spear once thrust 
into a sea-cucumber had to be cut away, the skin 
held it so fast. 

The sea-cucumber's mouth is at one end of his 
long body and his feelers branch out from it like 
a feathery-edged plant. The crimson sea-cucum- 
ber has feelers like little red trees which branch 
so thickly and grow so long, that when the sea- 
cucumber has burrowed in the muddy beach and 


whirring tells where the wary grouse has in- only his feelers are left above, you think a beau- 

stantly taken alarm upon the first sound of ap- tiful crimson plant is growing from the sand, 

proach. But this pretty red plant is doing good work 

Edmund J. Sawyer for the sea-cucumber, for if you watch a moment 
Vol. XXXV -106-107. 




you will see one branch after another sweep out 
over the sand and back to the center, and if you 

Photograph by L. B. Spencer. 

could also watch the sea-cucumber's body while 
it is feeding you would see him begin to swell 
until finally his skin was stuffed as full as it 
could hold. He has really stuffed himself with 
sand, for he eats the sand itself in order to get 
the tiny living things which it contains; then, 
when he has digested all the life in it, the sand is 
cast out of his body. 

The funniest thing about the sea-cucumber, 
however, is the way he will get rid of all of his 
organs and grow them again, as long as he keeps 
his mouth or his empty skin. One species, called 
the Synapta, when he is frightened or kept with- 
out food, breaks his body into pieces. He will 
contract at one point and drop off a piece, then 
at another point and drop off a piece, and then 
another, until there is nothing left but his mouth 
and feelers. But even then, if his enemy dis- 
appears, he will begin to piece out his lost body. 

But there are even funnier sea-cucumbers than 
the Synapta. There are some who, if you leave 
them without food or frighten them, will drop 
off their feelers and throw their stomachs and 
other organs out of their mouths until nothing is 
left but their empty skins, which they probably 
think no enemy will want; but if you take even 
the empty skin, it will soon grow a new stomach 
and feelers and the sea-cucumber will be as hun- 
gry and hearty as ever. 

It used to be thought that the sea-cucumber 
committed suicide, but in reality, like the brittle 
starfish, he is merely trying to save some of his 
body, that he may make a fresh start in life. 

Jessie B. Rittenhouse. 


On page 651 of "Nature and Science" for May,. 
1906 (in connection with an article on the Bryo- 
phyllum), was published a quotation from a bo- 
tanical friend's letter in regard to the Scdum 
Sieboldii. My friend wrote, "I have had a dry 
and apparently dead stem produce young plants 
after it had been hung on the wall of my library."' 

I experimented in the summer of 1907 and 
found that all he said of it was true and that there 
was much more of interest and beauty in the 
plant. Even aside from its wonderful endurance 
and power of growth when detacbed from the 
parent, it is well worth cultivating for its merits 
as a garden plant. Here is a photograph of two 
branches that bloomed after they had been cut 
from the plant and pinned on the wall. 

My correspondent says further, in reply to my 
inquiry : 

"My first acquaintance with this Sedum was in 
a wayside garden, where it was blooming in what 
seemed to be a solid mass of bluish-purple clus- 
ters, above which a delicate mist was hovering. 
A small box was so filled that there appeared ta 
be no room for more, while the pink cymes were 


superb. What seemed to be a mysterious mist 
was made by thousands of little, pink-tipped sta- 
mens that protruded from the entire surface of 




those flower-masses. I could only lean on the 
fence and express my satisfaction in exclamations 
of delight. Late in the following autumn, a sin- 
gle stem was thrust into a flower-pot, placed in 
the southern window of an unheated attic, and 
forgotten. A month or more later, my sister 
said, 'Your plant has a row of cabbages down 
both sides of the stem.' And so it had. Little 
green cabbages, about the size of a pea, orna- 
mented that stalk, a cabbage near each scar left 
by the fallen leaves. And from each one extended 
several delicate, nearly colorless rootlets, that 
seemed to be feeling for the earth. I gently de- 
tached them and planted each one up to the point 
from which the rootlets started. By spring I had 
as many new and thriving stems as I had cab- 
bages, and now there are hundreds, in a mass 
which blooms with a profusion of pink cymes 
that are the admiration of every flower lover that 
sees them. 

"The plant grows more luxuriantly and blooms 
more freely, and with larger clusters, if the roots 
are confined in a box. 

"There is a variety as easily cultivated, and 
with similar habits, but its clusters of white 
flowers are not so pleasing as are those of the 
purplish Sedum Sicboldii. At this moment I have 
several young plants of the white form growing 
in my window. These I intend to place with or 
near the pink Sieboldii. The clusters of two 
colors in the same box will make an interesting 
and beautiful display. 

"The Sedum Sicboldii came originally from 


Cromwell Dixon, a fourteen-year-old boy of 
Columbus, Ohio, has invented and successfully 
operated an air-ship. The machine is sustained 
in air by a balloon and driven forward by power 
supplied by pedaling as on a bicycle. This power 
is applied to two revolving propeller blades. 

In a calm breeze he has control of the ma- 
chine, driving it wherever he wishes. 

"The Technical World Magazine" says of his 
work : 

" Two years ago Cromwell Dixon, then in the sixth 
grade of the Columbus public schools, witnessed a flight of 
Roy Knabenshue's air-ship, and from that time on has 
been working constantly in an effort to build a similar 
vessel. He worked for more than a year on a motor- 
driven boat, but finally was obliged to give it up as he 
could not secure a motor that would work to his satisfaction. 
After several disastrous attempts he finally hit upon the 
idea of a bicycle gear, and having worked out the problem 
of transmitting power by means of a cog-wheel arrange- 
ment attached to a propeller shaft, he attached his boat to 
the gas-bag and in May of this year made his first flight at 
the Columbus driving park. 

"The wind was blowing about ten miles an hour, but 
despite the adverse currents he met with, he was able to 
make the circuit of the race-track several times and to con- 
trol the machine almost at will. His first gas-bag was too 
small to give him the needed lifting power, so that his 

An aeronaut at fourteen years of age. 

flights were close to the ground, but this he has since reme- 
died by increasing the capacity of the balloon. 

" By using a high-geared bicycle wheel he was able to 
develop considerable power, the wide expanse of his pro- 
peller-blades assisting in this. Dixon's knowledge of 
mechanics was necessarily limited and he learned much as 
he progressed in his work. His principal ideas were ob- 
tained from studying Knabenshue's air-ship, and he has 
had the aid of the Toledo man in a number of ways." 

The boy's mother writes to St. NICHOLAS as follows: 

Columbus, Ohio. 
Dear St. Nicholas: As I attend to my son Cromwell's 
business, I will write you a few lines pertaining to his 
work, and also send you some very good photographs of 
Cromwell himself and his sky-bicycle and of his air-ship 
that he used a few times last summer. Most people prefer 
the sky-bicycle, as it was the little fellow's own invention 
and he built it himself, even cutting the silk for the gas- 




bag over a pattern that Mr. Knabenshue, the great Toledo 
aeronaut, cut for him. I stitched it for him and we both 
worked night and day until it was finished. Then we var- 
nished it. We had to be very careful indeed, for if we had 
not watched it carefully it would have stuck together so 
tightly that' we could not have gotten it apart, but after 
several days it dried sufficiently to put on another coat, and 
so on until we had five coats of varnish. Then we kept it 
inflated until the last coat was dry. Cromwell was happy 
then, as he could get ready to test his sky-bicycle. 

We have a very large backyard and barn. Cromwell 
has the barn for his workshop, and the yard has been 
cleared of most all the trees and large grape arbor that he 
may have room to inflate the bag while varnishing or test- 
ing it. The bag is forty by fifteen feet. 

Then while at one of the Columbus parks, where Crom- 
well was engaged to make a flight, he lost everything he 
had by fire, so all had to be done over again. He went to 
work and made the second outfit even better than the first, 
so you see what a brave little man he was. Not even a 


sigh, when all that he had accomplished lay a heap of ashes. 
He turned to me and said: " Well, mother, we must com- 
mence to-morrow on our new outfit so that we can fulfil 
our engagements this summer," which we did, and the 
photographs I send you are of the second outfit. Now he 
is preparing to build a larger and more practical air-ship 
that he may compete with some of the other aeronauts for 
large cash prizes, which he is certainly able to do, having 
proven it at every place he has been, and I have signed 
several contracts for him for this spring and summer. 

Cromwell has always been of a mechanical nature. 
Having shown his preference for such things, I encouraged 
him, and helped him besides. He lost his father when a 

He attended the St. Louis balloon and air-ship carnival, 
where Cromwell was a great favorite and where he made a 
beautiful flight in his sky-cycle. 

Very truly yours, 

Mrs. C. Dixon. 

It will be noted that much weight is saved by 
utilizing the "power" of the aeronaut and not 
requiring the addition of a motor. A machine of 


this kind serves well as an amusement even if it has 
no great speed or practical use. This sky-bicycle 
is named "The Moon." 


There is found in Australia a tree which grows 
bottles. Of course they are not glass bottles, 
nevertheless, they are receptacles for a substance 
of great importance to the tree, and there is that 
in the appearance of the growth which suggests 
the every-day bottle. 



Showing arrangements of buds about the stems. Photograph by 

Arthur J. Burdick, Los Angeles, Cal. 

The botanical name for the plant is Callistemon 
lanceolatus. It is the red bottle-brush or water- 
gum of Queensland, Victoria, and New South 
Wales. The plant grows to the height of thirty 




to forty feet and attains a diameter of twelve to 
eighteen inches. It was known to the Greeks 


The flowers consist of whorls of scarlet bristles which appear from 
woody buds which cluster about the stems of the shrub at various in- 
tervals. These clusters of woody buds are the " bottles" which give 
the plant its name. Photograph by Arthur J. Burdick, Los Angeles, 

under the name of "metrisideros," or "heart of 
iron." The wood is hard and heavy, and it is 
related to the "ironwood" of this country. 

Flowers of the bottle-brush consist of whorls of 
scarlet anthers or bristles which appear from 
woody buds which are clustered about the stems 
of twigs and branches at various intervals. 
These clusters are the bottles which give the 
plant its name. A cluster of the woody buds with 
a section of the twig left to answer for the neck, 
bear a striking resemblance to a bottle. Each of 
the tiny buds of the cluster, however, is a bottle — 
a wooden one — which, after the blossom has dis- 
appeared, is filled with fine yellow dust, the pollen 
of the plant. A large bush or tree yields several 
pounds of this pollen, it being most prolific in this 

Leaves of this interesting plant are opposite, 

lance-like — elliptic-ovate, veiny, with extra nerve 

near each margin. They are smooth and parallel. 

Flowers are scarlet and calyx, top-shaped. — 

Arthur J. Burdick, 

Los Angeles, Cal. 


About a hundred years ago, in the Shogun 
period, the noble classes kept as pets or as curi- 
osities in their gardens, wonderful, long-tailed 
chickens, which, in some parts of the country, 
are still cultivated, one of the present day being 
shown in the illustration. The remarkable tail 
generally grows to a length of from five to six 
feet, but if the fowl be treated with care, it may 
reach to a length of from ten to fifteen feet. 

Originally the birds came from Tosa, and the 
best even now come from that region, but at the 
present time not many are found in any part of 
Japan, yet some are occasionally seen. Several 
specimens, with the tail from five to six feet 






long, are in the 
American Muse- 
um of Natural 
History in New 
York. The illus- 
tration is a copy 
of the originat 
drawing which I 
made in Japan. 

Kako Morita. 

Mr. Beebe in his chapter on 
"Tails" (of birds) says: — 

" Most tails of birds are for 
use — for steering in flight or 
swimming or as a brake to 
stop motion. Creepers, wood- 
peckers and swifts use their 


tails as a prop or support in clinging to vertical sur- 
faces. Some birds have only four pairs of tail feath- 
ers, others as many as twelve. In the fan-tail pigeon 
is an extreme number, sometimes as many as forty." 






Eastbourne, England. 
Glendevon, Devonshire Place. 
Dear St. Nicholas: On St. Patrick's Day, March 17th, 
a piece of real Irish shamrock was given to me. I put 
some wet cotton about the roots and placed it in a tiny 
glass half full of fresh water to keep it till the evening, 
when 'I wished to wear it. However, I forgot it until 
three days later, when, on going to look at it, I found that 
it was growing, and apparently flourishing. The roots 
had stuck down into the cotton and had knotted it together. 
Did the shamrock merely use this only as an anchoring 
place, or as a sort of sponge through which to draw up the 
water into its leaves ? Surely it cannot derive any nour- 
ishment from the cotton though it is still growing. 

I need hardly say that, in common with all your readers, 
I admire your lovely magazine very much. 
Your interested contributor, 

Margaret Stuart Browne. 

Cuttings of many species of plants will grow 
if they are supplied with moisture. In fact all 
plants depend upon the air as well as upon the 


(Just white clover.) 

soil for their food supply. Aerial plants are so 
named because they obtain most of their nourish- 
ment from air-dust, rain-water and the air 

Your expression, "real Irish shamrock," sug- 
gests an explanation of what may not be gener- 


ally known to our readers. Several varieties of 
plants claim the honor of being the true sham- 
rock, and no person can state authoritatively 
which is the "true" one. 

The word is from the Irish seamrog, meaning 
threefold, and is applied to many three-leaved 
plants native to Ireland, sometimes to the water 
cress which is not three-leaved. Various plants 
are sent from Ireland to other countries and sold 
as the "true shamrock," and it is a common be- 
lief that shamrock cannot be grown in this 
country even with the most careful cultivation. 
The fact (astonishing in view of this claim) is 
that every one of the plants grows freely in 
many countries, in all sorts of waste places, with 
no care whatever. So it is not the kind of plant, 
but the fact that it was actually grown in Ireland 
that makes it cherished by lovers of that country 
In that sense only is it true that shamrock can 
be grown only in Ireland. But the same thing is 
true of any souvenir of any place. It is n't a 
souvenir if it did n't come from that place. So 
the same kind of plant growing out of Ireland is 
not to be cherished a,s shamrock. 

It is amusing, in view of this fact, to know 
that some florists in this country advertise cer- 
tain plants as the "true shamrock," while they 
might as well offer twigs broken from bushes in 
Connecticut as souvenirs of Oregon. 

One of these plants is our common white clo- 
ver (Trifolium repens) . The fact that it has 
been induced by cultivation to grow leaflets 
mostly in fours a-nd fives, and that they are choc- 




olate color, is claimed as additional proof of their 
identity with "the true shamrock!" 

The professor of Botany of the Royal College 
of Science, Dublin, Ireland, writes to St. Nicho- 
las as follows : 

I have much pleasure in replying to yours of the 30th 
ult., just at hand, more especially as St. Nicholas is a 
great favorite with my children. The shamrock is, like the 
Celtic temperament, elusive and hard to define. No one 
uses the wood sorrel nowadays as shamrock. The honors 
are divided between Trifoliitm ?>units (least hop clover), 
Trifolium repens (white clover) and Medicago htpulina 
{black seed hop clover). 

Professor Henry H. Dixon of the School of 
Botany, Trinity College, Dublin, cites various 
references to the literature of shamrock. Among 
these he mentions : 

"The Shamrock in Literature " by Nathaniel Colgar. 
And the important reference is " Irish Naturalist," 1893, 
page 207. "The Shamrock — A Further Attempt to fix its 
Species." I am sorry I cannot send you reprints. In the 
latter paper the author relates how he procured shamrocks 
from the peasants of various counties in Ireland and iden- 
tified them as botanical specimens. His results were as 
follows : 

19 shamrocks were Trifoliitm repens (white clover). 
12 " " Trifoliitm minus (least hop clover). 

2 " " Trifoliitm pralense (red clover). 

2 " " Medicago htpulina (black seed hop 

In no case was Oxalis acetosella (wood sorrel) selected, 
although one often hears that it is the true shamrock. I 
am sure you will find representatives of these species in 
U. S. A.'s floras. 

Professor Dixon is right in his surmise that 
all these plants grow wild in the United States. 

To sum up : Shamrock, meaning any one of 
many kinds of clover-like plants, grows wild in 
this country; but shamrock, as a souvenir of Ire- 
land, grows only in that country. It is in this 
sense that the Irish people use the word, and not 
as the mere name of a special plant, but an ex- 
pression of their affectionate associations and 
memories with the homeland. 

a two-headed turtle 

Tampa, Florida. 
Dear St. Nicholas: Mama told me to write and send 
you the clipping. She says that when she was a little girl 
and took St. Nicholas you had a picture of a two-headed 
turtle in it. The other day she was reading, and saw the 
inclosed picture, and it reminded her of your little story. 
She said that these are the only two she has ever heard of, 
and the piece in St. Nicholas was printed so many years 
ago she thought your readers would like to hear about 
them. This is my first letter to you. 

Your loving reader, 

Julia Rust. 

The clipping accompanying this letter was 
from "The Grit," Williamsport, Pennsylvania. 
Through the courtesy of that newspaper I ob- 
tained the address of the photographer, Mr. J. B. 
Finley, Ringgold, Georgia. He writes as follows: 

"The two-headed turtle was about the size of 

a silver dollar. It was picked up at Catoosa 
Springs, about four miles east of Ringgold. 
Georgia. It has two fully developed heads, four 
eyes, four legs, and one tail, and will eat worms 


and bugs with either head. When it starts to 
take a journey one head will pull one way and 
the other head the other way. Then all at once 
it will stop and the two heads will come together 
and then it will go straight forward just like any 
other turtle." 



Dear St. Nicholas: I have been reading you for the 
past six years and have never yet asked a question of you, 
but I am going to ask one now. Mr. J. J. Tomasick, 
editor of the Pascagoula "Chronicle," related to me to- 
day the following incident : 

An English sparrow saw a piece of straw, about three 
or four feet long, lying in a yard, that she wanted for her 
nest-building. She picked up the straw, and flying over a 
near-by roof, it caught in the shingles. She tugged away 
at it, but could not loosen it. While she was tugging 
away three other sparrows came and joined with her and 
tugged away at the straw until they had got it loose, when 
the three that came to her assistance flew away leaving the 
first sparrow to take the straw to her nest. 

How did the last three sparrows know that the first one 
needed help ? If the birds are guided by blind instinct, 
how do you account for this ? 

Your constant reader, 

Arthur A. Chidsey (age 13). 

I do not see anything remarkable in the case 
of the sparrows and the straw. Most gregarious 
animals will aid each other at times. The spar- 
rows saw their fellow tugging at the straw, and 
lent her a hand, their instinct and not their rea- 
son prompted them. They had, no doubt, all 
had trouble with straws and strings themselves. 

John Burroughs. 




AUG., 1904. THEN 14.) 

A good many times during the years since the 
League began we have called attention to the 
necessity of living up to League rules in the 
matter of submitting contributions. For some 
reason, however, the very worst offenders never 
seem to read these cautions, and some of them 
to-day are perhaps wondering why they have not 
won prizes and become Honor Members with the 
privilege of being included in the League Album. 
Well, if that is so, they may be interested enough 
in the Album to read some of those cautions, 
here, in nice large print, then turn over a new 
leaf and so get to be Honor Members by and by; 
for certainly they will never win honors of any 
sort if they do not prepare their work according 
to the rules. 

There are only a few rules — as few as possi- 
ble and most of them are just as necessary to 



OCT., 1906. THEN 15.) 

BADGE, PROSE, MAY, 1905.) 


the success of "grown-up" writers and illustrators 
as they are to the success of Leaguers. 

First, every contribution of every sort must 
bear the sender's name and address, plainly 
written, not scribbled, and in a conspicuous place. 

Second, every contribution must bear the 
sender's age, plainly written. 

Third, every contribution must be properly in- 
dorsed as "Original" by the sender's parent, 
teacher, or guardian, who must know that the 
work is not copied from any other work. 

Names, ages, addresses, indorsements, should 
be on the contributions, and not in an accom- 
panying letter. It is not necessary to send a 
letter with a contribution. (No letter can add any 
value to any work of art, ivhcthcr literary or 
pictorial, and it may harm rather than help it.) 

Fourth, every contribution of whatever sort 


must be on one side of the paper only. Stories 
and poems must be plainly written, or typewrit- 
ten, and drawings must be made with India ink, 
very black writing-ink, or black and white wash 

ING, NOV., 1907.) 



NOV., 1901.) 

(i.e., with a brush). Drawings in pencil, pale 
ink, or color, will not be considered. 

Fifth, stories and sketches (prose) must not 
contain over four hundred words, and the num- 
ber of words, carefully counted, should be given 
with the sender's name and address and the par- 



FEB., 1907.) 1904. THEN 14.) 

ent's indorsement, at the top of the manuscript. 

Sixth, drawings must be somewhat larger than 
they are intended to reproduce. A drawing half 
as large again as it is intended to appear is likely 
to give the best results, unless very coarsely done 
— then it should be fully twice as large as the 
reproduction. Drawings for the League should 
never be on paper or cardboard larger than nine 
by thirteen inches for the reason that larger 
drawings are likely to be broken. 

The above rules are all made for the League 
members' good. If any young author or artist 

intends to follow literature or illustration in 
after years, these rules (except those pertaining 
to age, indorsement, and number of words) will 
be quite as necessary to success then as now. 



RAPHY, APRIL, 1908.) NOV., 1906, THEN II.) 

BY NANNIE CLARK BARR (aged 15) ( Cash Prize) 

Do you not hear them call you, dear, away? 
Sweet, scarce distinguished voices of the night, 

Spreading before you o'er the field and brae, 

To where the first dark trunks shut put the light. 

The somber, brooding branches in the dark 

Hold out strange treasures, winds that sing and sigh, 

And moonlight drifting down, spark after spark, 
From the far, high-lit altar of the sky. 

They sing you night songs, half articulate, 
They lead you, fairy child, along the path 

Where ? — but the forest-bred may roam, and wait 
The visions which the world-old forest hath. 

The wistful trees bend closer unto you ; 

Dream-child, you long so earnestly to pace 
The great dim roads no mortal ever knew, 

Forever in the darkness and the space. 

Childhood is gone, night vanishes, the song 
Is stilled. Go also back from fancy's gleam ; 

Leave the dream forest where you lingered long, — 
But take with you the memory of your dream. 



SEPT., I904. 

THEN 14.) 








{Gold Badge) 

In our old hall, where the rays of the sun He was gentle and pleasant to one and all, 

Strike, just as it sinks in the West, And cheerful and patient, I 've heard them say. 

Is a picture, old-fashioned and rare I 'm sure I should love him if he was alive 

Of a soldier with golden hair, But he died down South at twenty-five, 

And a medal upon his breast. Shot by a musketeer in gray. 

His eyes are blue, and his face is a boy's, 
And under the picture a sword is hung, 
And over it two flags are crossed, 
Which the winds of battle have often tossed 
Where many have died unsung. 

That 's why I love to sit 

In the hall at the close of day, 

And see the colors leap and fall 

Till he seems to smile at me from the wall, 

With the touch of the sun's last ray. 


iE 16. (CASH PRIZE.) 



(Silver Badge) 

With mighty Jason he had sought 

The Fleece at Colchis far ; 
With brave Achilles he had fought 

In the by-gone Trojan War. 

He 'd sit upon a prancing steed, 
His armor 'd shine like gold, 

And through the fight his men he 'd lead, 
This valiant hero bold. 

And countless other deeds he 'd done 

In golden days of yore, 
And many victories he 'd won, — 

Great battles by the score. 

But if the sad truth I must tell, — 

For sad to me it seems, — 
I must say that I know quite well 

He did these in his dreams. 




In the many magazines and newspapers published in this 
country and abroad, hundreds of stories, poems and draw- 
ings appear every month. It is impossible for any one 
person to see more than a very small portion of these, and 
to deceive an editor by offering a copied contribution is no 
great achievement. The editor is obliged to trust to the 
standing, and to the honesty and good sense of the con- 
tributor; and now and again it happens that a plagiarism 
is offered and accepted, because the editor cannot know 



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everything that has been published, and because his confi- 
dence was misplaced. 

Only, that is not the end of it. It was not so difficult, 
perhaps, to deceive the editor, for he is just a single reader, 
but when the magazine appears and is seen by a hundred 
thousand readers, or more, then it is a different matter. 
No poem, or picture, or story, however obscurely pub- 
lished, if it has any merit, that has not been seen, not only 
by one or two, but by hundreds of that great throng. Let- 
ters begin to pour in upon the editor, telling him that he 
has accepted a stolen contribution and giving the name of 
the publication in which it first appeared. This means 
grief and humiliation to the editor, but to the contributor it 
means something much worse. To him it means that for 
a moment's triumph and a paltry reward he has sold that 
most precious of all jewels — his reputation. 

Now and then, during the years that have passed since 
the League was formed some member has been willing to 
risk that priceless treasure for the chance of winning a 
prize. It is a simple matter to look up a poem or a pic- 
ture in some old and seemingly forgotten corner and to 
copy it. It is simple enough, too, to get a trusting parent 
to indorse it as " Original," and it is only one more step to 
get it accepted by an editor who believes in young people 
and their work because in these years that have passed he 
has seen so many of his boys and girls accomplish such 
amazing things. But then comes publication day, when a 
vast throng of readers sit in judgment, and the deception 
is made known on every hand. That is a bitter day 
enough, especially when the offender is one who in the 
past has won recognition by fair means. It is with grief; 

and reluctance that we are obliged to take notice here of a 
recent case of this sort. Our gold badge poem on page 566 
in the April number was copied from a magazine poem pub- 
lished more than a year ago. To the League editor this 
means humiliation — all the deeper because he has awarded 
a cash prize to the same contributor in the League for May. 
But to the sender of the poem, and to the sender's parents, 
it is a tragedy. The pity of it ! 


In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered. 

Verse. Gold badge, Ethel Warren Kidder (age 10), 
114 Prospect St., Fall River, Mass. 

Silver badges, Irma A. Hill (age 10), 194 Riverside 
Drive, N. Y. City; Dorothy Foster (age 12), Chester St., 
Mt. Vernon, N. Y., and Elizabeth Rogers^age 6), Pros- 
pect St., Belmont, Mass. 

Prose. Gold badges, Eva Matthews Sanford (age 13), 
54 Caroline St., Ogdensburg, N. Y., and Dorothy Wooster 
(age 15), Ossining School, Ossining, N. Y. 

Silver badges, Jean L. Fenton (age 15), 1117 S. Walter 
St., Albuquerque, N. M., and Lorraine Voorhees (age 12), 
924 W. nth St., Sioux Falls, So. Dak. 

Drawing. Gold badge, Dorothy Rieber (age 14), 15 
Canyon Rd., Berkeley, Cal. 

Silver badges, Helen Amy Seymour (age 13), 202 Har- 
rison St., La Porte, Ind. ; Atala Scudder (age 15), 320 
W. 91st St., N. Y. ; Percy Blumlein (age 16), 436 Pacific 
St., Brooklyn, N. Y., and Helen Louise Walker (age n), 
100 Lincoln Pk. Boule., Chicago, 111. 

Photography. Cash prize, Lyle Saxon (age 16), 309 
St. Louis St., Baton Rouge, La. 

Gold badge, Cecile Bolton (age 10), Garrison, Mont. 

Silver badges, Fritz Hartman (age 15), Junction City, 
Kans., and Frank Phillips iage 14), 315 Pullman Ave., 
Pullman, 111. 

Wild Creature Photography. First prize, " Pelican 
and Buzzard," by John H. Hill (age 12), 1102 Grove St., 
Evanston, 111. Second Prize, "Japanese Golden Pheas- 
ant," by Norman H. Read (age 16), Manchester, Mass. 


Third prize, " Wild Crow," Cassius M. Clay, Jr. (age 13), 
Paris, Ky. Fourth prize, "Sea-gull," by Eliza L. Fris- 
sell ,i age 12), 80 14th St., Wheeling, W. Va. 

Puzzle-Making. " Gold badges, Edward Foster (age 
13), Route 1, St. Joseph, Minn., and Winthrop B. Field 
(age 13), 329 Westford St., Lowell, Mass. 

Silver badges. Lois Holway (age 13), Machias, Maine, 
and Florence West (age 12), 174 Inwood Ave., Upper 
Montclair, N. J. 




Puzzle Answers. Gold badges, Tremaine Parsons 
(age 13), Lenox, Mass., and Caroline Curtiss Johnson 
(age 14), 87 High St., Yonkers, N. Y. 

Silver badges, Lucie D. Taussig (age 13), 191 Park 
Ave., Yonkers, N. Y., and Edna Astruck (age 12), 114 
W. 86th St., N. Y. City 



(Silver Badge) 
The man who does a good deed 

Does a good thing, be sure. 
And often trouble in his task 

Is what he must endure. 

If he ever gets it done, 

A hero then is he 
And no matter how long it takes, 

He must do it; don't you see ? 



(Gold Badge) 

One of the coal companies in Ogdensburg has a number 
of coal boats running between Ogdensburg and Charlotte, 
the port of Rochester. On each of these there is a guest's 
cabin, and father and mother have a standing invitation to 
make the trip. 

One day last September they were on one of the boats, 
on Lake Ontario, out of sight of land, when a heavy 
shower came up. Toward the end of this, a flock of 
goldfinches, too wet to fly, alighted on the boat. They 
were on their fall migration. 

Although the sailors were all around, they displayed no 
fear, but went into every nook and corner of the deck, as 
if they were anxious to find out what sort of a place it 
was. When the sun had been out long enough to 
thoroughly dry them, they flew away. But one poor little 
bird had a broken wing, and could not fly with the rest. 

In about an hour, father and mother were surprised to 


see that where they had supposed there was one bird, there 
were two! The lame bird's mate had flown back to urge 
her to join them. But his entreaties were all in vain, she 
could not fly. However, he did his best to comfort her 
and make her happy. Before the other birds had flown 
away, the sailors had scattered some crumbs for them, but 
the lame bird had not been able to reach them. Now her 
mate picked up a crumb, and brought it to her. She 
opened her bill, and he put it in. He repeated this until 

she had eaten all she wanted. They twittered together a. 
little while longer, and then he flew away. The sailors 
made the little lame bird comfortable, and put her on the 
grass at Charlotte, but a heavy shower soon came up, and 
probably killed it. 

I hope that the other bird found the flock again, and 
reached the South safely, but I am afraid he did not, for he 
had delayed so long. Brave little thing ! I think that he 



was a real hero, to drop behind his flock in migration, to- 
come back a long distance to comfort his mate and do his. 
best to get her to fly back with him. 



(Honor Member) 

He came from the North in his wolfskin cloak,. 

With his customs rude and wild. 
And he marveled long 
At the thrush's song 

And the south wind soft and mild. 

He came from the North in his wolfskin cap, 
And his manners sharp and bold. 

His eyes unafraid, 

Gleamed like his blade — 
His hair like matted gold. 

But he sadly longed for his Northland home 

His sword grew dull and old. 
He hated the mild, 
He longed for the wild, 

He longed and yearned for the cold. 

He saddened for skies that were blue as his eyes,. 

The dash of the waves on the beach. 
" Where 's the North ? " he said, 
But they stared instead, 

For they did not know his speech. 

So he laid him down on southern soil, 

By a sparkling ford one day ; 
And his soul and his sword 
Went up the ford, 

Where his glorious Northland lay. 






{Cold Badge) 

In the beautiful Catskills on a bright summer afternoon, 
Ina and I were walking along the road which led from the 
lovely patch of blackberries where we had been picking. 

As we walked along we thought we heard some faint 
squeals. Sure enough ! There on the side of the road 
we saw a snake greedily guarding the nest of a little field 
mouse. Before we could turn around the mother mouse 
came running down the ditch by the road just as fast as 
she could. She ran back of the snake and bit him hard. 
When the snake turned to fight her she avoided him and 
snatched one of her babies in her mouth and ran back up 
the road again. In a moment she returned, attacked the 
snake again and took another one of her babies. She did 




{Silver Badge) 

When we speak of animal heroes one's first thought is of 
the many acts of heroism relating to horses and dogs. 
Few would imagine that a cat could be a hero. 

This little incident occurred during the last flood of the 
Caw River, which is a branch of the Missouri River. The 
flood did a great deal of damage, washing away the many 
homes of the poor working people, who lived on the low- 
lands. While the crowds stood watching the houses and 
furniture, which were floating rapidly down the river, they 
noticed a very strange object and at first did not know what 
it was. As it came nearer the shore they discovered it to 
be a cradle. And on the cradle stood a large maltese cat, 
standing in such a way as to balance the cradle perfectly, 
and in the cradle lay a laughing baby which was being 
cared for by this cat, who little imagined that he was a 
hero. So far as I know the mother 
and father have never been found, 
but the baby was adopted by a family, 
and the cat became a great pet. 



{Silver Badge) 

Tarry is a darling 
Yes, Tarry is a dear, 
And if you care to listen, 
His praises you will hear. 

His fame is spread 
Yea, far and wide, 
His name is heard 
On every side. 

He is a bulldog, 
Black and brown, 
A watchdog,'too, 
Of great renown. 



1 A 

( . ■ 





No thief dare enter 
Where he is, 
For fear he '11 
'Settle down to biz." 


this once again and the next time she came back the snake 
was gone, but still she could hear those pitiful little squeals. 
Down the hole she sprang but was up again in less than no 
time. She went quickly in and out again several times and 
we began to wonder what she was doing. We soon found 
out, for the snake came out of the hole just about as fast 
as he could. The mother drove him away, and he seemed 
very willing to go. She then trotted 
back up the road. We followed her 
and about ten or twelve feet farther 
up we saw her four, tiny, baby mice 
all safe in the tall grass by the road. 



(AGE 16) 

{Honor Member) 

In spite of storms and winter's cold 

Bravely she lifts her head ; 
Awakened by the first spring rain 
From mossy winter bed. 

What cares she, though the stormy 
The trees around her sway, 
She knows that from behind the 
The sun will shine some day. 

And so she smiles in sweet content, 
At all who come her way ; 

And "Here 's the first hepatica ! " 
We hear the children say. 




AGE 15. (SI 



{Silver Badge Winner) 

He, who, framing the nation's laws, 
Thinks not of self, but of her cause 
Should be deemed a hero. 

He who fights for his country's cause, — 
Freedom and. right and guarded laws, — 
Should be deemed a hero. 

He, who, leading a righteous life, 
Doth guard the land from crime and 
Should be deemed a hero. 

Aye, he who, to his duty true, 

Doeth the best that he can do, 

Should be deemed a hero. 



{Silver Badge) 
When we were living on the ranch 
we had one of the nicest mares that ever walked on four 

Sometimes we used to say Brownie could do everything 
but read and write, she was so intelligent. 

When called by name she would answer with a gentle 

When she thought it was meal time and no one came to 
feed her she would come to be fed. 

Her colts always were the cutest and gentlest on the 

They didn't seem to be afraid of anything but would 
come poking their little noses up to us in a very confident 

Brownie kept a close watch on her colt and if another 
horse laid back its ears or a cow shook its head she would 
see that that offender was out of sight of her precious babe 

When the colts were old enough to run around safely, 
the mares were turned out on the range for the summer. 

Now was the time Brownie had to keep her eyes open, 
for the mountain lions looked at those fat, tender little colts 
with hungry eyes. 

One day as the horses were trailing down to water the 
colts lagged behind in the hot sun. 

All at once there was a commotion. 

Brownie, looking around, saw an unusually large wild- 
cat clinging to the side of her colt. 

She was back in no time and pawed and bit at the beast 
until it was forced to leave go and run for its life. 

The colt was badly scratched but, with care, recovered. 

The next summer Brownie was the proud mother of 
another colt 

One hot day it and another colt were lying under a large 
spreading pine tree, while their mothers were grazing near. 

There was a slight rustle amongst the branches and a 
lion dropped down on the helpless colts. 

At the first sound, Brownie turned. 

When she saw the awful sight she jumped into the 
center with a loud neigh and fought with teeth and hoofs 
until the lion gave up his prey. 

Brownie and both the colts were badly scratched and 
took some time to heal. 

When they did get well they were as lively as ever. 

Later two other colts were killed by mountain lions. 

We always said if Brownie had been there they would 
still be alive. 

Unfortunately she was at work in the harvest field. 



j». If I were a hero and wore a green 
~^0>- wreath 

And had at my side a sword and a 

If people stood staring as I would go 

And under my horse's feet roses would 

Would mother love me just the same 
As if I had n't all this fame ? 
For mother says when I am bad, 
And she is feeling rather sad ; 
That truest heroes do not dare 
To go into a lion's lair, 
And, too, they need not be so brave 
That many lives they always save ; 
For those who would be true heroes 
Must first make friends of all their 

foes : 
And then be in a helpful mood, 
And never gobble all their food 




Some years ago my father who was interested in the his- 
tory of our family, was looking over some old papers on 
the Scottish line and there he found the history of a remark- 
able cat. 

It happened that the family were moving from Scotland 
to England, and as they had to travel in the large coaches 
of that day, it was hard to carry animals, so they had to 
leave behind them this cat, one of the family pets. 

Arriving at their new home that evening after their long 
journey they sat around the large fireplace, when in walked 
a poor little cat. It looked so much like their own, but of 
course it couldn't be. She couldn't have followed them 






fifty miles ! The cat purred and seemed glad to see them. 
When they picked her up they saw that her paws were 
bleeding. She must have run behind the coach for fifty 
miles, hiding behind the bushes when they stopped. 

Well, of course, after that Kitty was cuddled and loved 
above all their pets. Yet some people say that cats have 
not heroic faithfulness 



{Silver Badge Winner) 

He was only a little dust-colored dog, 

With infinite love in his eyes, 
And he had n't a friend in the whole wide world, 

This hero small, in disguise. 

The fire-bells were ringing, the people were wild, 
" Make way ! " the excitement was rife, 
" There 's a child in the way of the fire-engine's path ! " 
" Is there no one to save the babe's life ? " 

Then out from the crowd flashed a dust-colored streak, 

And straight to the baby it flew ; 
Two seconds later the child toddled safe 

To the arms of the nurse whom it knew 

But what is that limp little figure of tan 

They 're bearing so gently away ? 
Oh, that ? That 's the little dust-colored dog; 

He 's the hero of the day. 



One very rough day we were walking along the parade at 
Margate with our Irish terrier "Scamp." 

There were railings all along and " Scamp " would al- 
ways walk on the outside of them. 







Poor Scampy was so grateful that he could not show his 
gratitude enough. 

That night, soon after we were in bed, we heard a 
scratching at our bedroom door and when we opened it, 
" Scamp " came in, jumped on our bed and lay down to go 
to sleep. He refused to be turned away, and always after 
this he seemed to try to show his gratitude by never leav- 
ing us. 

Perhaps your readers may not think that " Scamp" was 
a hero because he did not save any one else's life, but we 
always think he was one, because he showed such pluck in 
saving his own. 



Bruno was a faithful Saint Bernard. He came from Miss 
Whitney's kennels at Lancaster, Mass., when he was very 
young and all his life was most devoted to me, and my 
brothers and sisters. 

We could not move about the grounds, even, far from 
the house, but he would rouse from his most comfortable 
nap to be by our side. 

When he was only fifteen months old hesavedababy'slife. 

The baby was playing in the back yard, and the mother 
had been called into the house for a few minutes. In the 
meantime the baby had crept under the fence into a field 
where cattle were grazing. An angry bull started for him. 
Bruno seeing it dashed between the bull and the baby, 
barking fiercely, trying to keep the bull away, and at the 
same time trying to push the baby through the fence with 
his hind feet. 

He was just pushing the baby under the bar of the fence, 
when the mother came hurriedly out to see what was the 
matter. And she felt that Bruno had surely saved the 
baby's life. 

Bruno died wdien he was twelve years old. 


The sea was coming right over the parade and " Scamp," 
-whilst barking at the waves, slipped and fell into the water. 
He at once commenced to swim, but although he was quite 
close to some steps the tide carried him the wrong way so 
he could not get to them. 

The next place where he could get out was a slope which 
was some long distance away. 

Once he scrambled on to a breakwater, and made vain 
attempts to jump up the high, straight wall which was be- 
tween him and safety, but the cruel waves knocked him off 
again and once more he was struggling in the rough 

By this time quite a crowd had collected, one offered to 
go for a boat, another (a Frenchman) rushed for ropes, 
but in the meantime by continually calling " Scamp ! 
Scamp ! " and walking slowly along the parade the poor 
dog was encouraged to keep on swimming and after twenty 
minutes' fight for his life he reached the slope a shivering, 
half-drowned animal. 

He was too exhausted to walk, so we had to carry him 
home, and when we got there we made a large fire, and 
rubbed him dry with bath towels. 









No. 1047. "Six Amateur Actors." Harrison Dimmitt, President; 
Charles Bayly, Jr., Secretary and Treasurer; six members. 

No. 1048. " Eugael Club." Hazel Bowman, ^President ; Mary G. 
Dickinson, Secretary; five members. 

No. 1049. "The Young Folk's Social Club." Tillie Sommerfeld, 
President; Mildred Harris, Vice President; Harry Sommerfeld, 
Secretary; Irwin Kahn, Treasurer; ten members. 

No. 1050. "Cozy Club." Christina Claus, President; Louisa A. 
Lunt, Secretary; seven members. 

No. 1051. "I. M. A." Margaret Hearsey, President;" Katherine 
Davis, Secretary; .seven members. 

No. 1052. "St. Mary's Chapter." Elsie C. Comstock, President; 
Loraine Ransom, Secretary and Treasurer; thirty-two members. 

No. 1053. "Sunshine Workers' Club." Ruth Spencer, President; 
Harriette Adcock, Secretary; Grace Lester, Treasurer; six members. 


Dear St. Nicholas : I thank you many times for the badge which I 
received last month. You can imagine how it delighted me, when I 
tell you that I have been competing ever since the League began, for 
we have taken the St. Nicholas about ten years. 

I used to make my drawings very small, the size they were to appear 
when in print. One month, however, the League Editor wrote that 
many drawings were rendered useless because they were drawn too 
small, and he then gave the proper directions. I followed these and 
had better success immediately. 

From your sincere reader, 

Rena Kellner. 

Hillsboro, III. 
My dear St. Nicholas : Our chapter, 829, has never written to you 
before. We have a great deal of fun and pleasure at our meetings. 
We are now planning for a valentine masquerade party. We should 
like very much to correspond with other chapters between the ages of 
thirteen to sixteen. Our address, Aldine Frey, corresponding secretary, 
or Evelyn Wolfe, secretary, Hillsboro, 111. Also Evelyn Wolfe would 
like Miss Dorothy M. Wolfe to write to her whose name she saw in the 
November number. 

Hoping you prosperity and good /uck we remain 
Your loving readers, 

The Sophomore Bachelor Girls. 

Other welcome letters have been received from Virginia Swain, 
Martha Aschezn, Philip Wooster, Helen L. Patch, Albert Wieshofer, 
Marjorie S. Harrington, Esther E. Galbraith, Hazel Smrthson, El- 
bridge Colby, Katharine Keen, Helen M. Peck, Arthur J. Kramer, 
Pierre W. Laurens, Marian Rose. Gordon B. Sherwood, Althea Bertha 
Morton, Florence Mallett, Rebecca P. Flint, Amy Peabody, Esther A. 
Tiffany, Florence E. Dawson, Helen Goodall, Archie Douglas, 


Freddie Roberts, Arthur William Kakilty, Homer Harrison, Elizabeth 
Gordon, Ida F. Parfitt, Agnes M. Mial, Maud L. Fan, Kathryn T. 
Motley, Thaddeus Martin Daly, Marian Jenkins, Blanche N. Loeb, 
Kathlee Buchanan, Eleanor M. bickles, Katharine A. Lewis, Helen 
Whitcomb, Marjorie Moses, Frieda Rabinowitz, Eloise Nolte, Hazel 
S. Halstead, Madge, A. Dunnell. 


No. i. A list of those whose work would have been used had space 

No. 2. A list of those whose work entitles them to encouragement. 



Vol. XXXV. — 108. 


Bernard F. Trotter 
Giselavon Unterrichter 
Marion B. George 
Eugene Ecclestone 

Ruth Adams 
Faith Baldwin 
Helen Fitz-James 

Margaret L. Reazor 
Aileen Hyland 
Aline J. Macdonald 
Elsie Cromwell 

Agnes M. Miall 
Lucile Delight 

Emmeline Bradshaw 
Olave Dodgeson 

Carrie Blake 
Thomas Nolan 
Doris F. Halman 
Beulah Elizabeth 

Franklin Warren Wolf 
Frederick A. Thompson 
Noreta L. Netz 
Rue Eaton 
Agnes Gray 
Elizabeth Walker 
Therse H. McDonnell 
Marguret Hunt 
Ralph C. Jenkins 
Elizabeth Toof 
Catharine H. Straker 
Earl Reed Silvers 
Annie Louise Hillyer 
Beryl Morse 
Marie Josephine Hess 
Eleanor Johnsoa 

Ruth Livingston 


Margaret G. Kerr 
Dorothy Ordway 
Lucretia Mackenzie 
Rose Norton 
Esther L. King 
Constance H. Smith 
Emma L. Liechty 
James Boyd Hunter 
Ilse M. Neymann 
Therese R. Robbins 
Charlotte Bennett 
Ruth Stanley-Brown 
Zyepha M. Cheney 
Ruth Harvey Reboul 
Marjorie Wabridge 

Roy G. Hannis 




Margaret Farnsworth 
Elizabeth Chippendale 
Helen Therese 

Beth V. Burlingame 





Julia M. Barley 
Alice Brabant 
Nettie E. Bedell 
Frances Berenice 

Bessie Emery 
Josephine B. Richey 
Lois M. Cunningham 
Dorothy May Brown 
Marjorie Clark 
Babette Deutsch 
Jean McWilliams 
Ruth E. Fitts 
Grace S. Nies 
Phillis Walsh 
Erik Achorn 
Ruth Leekley 
Marian G. Seid 
Dorothy Ramsey 
Lewis O. Edwards 
Kathrine Park 
Verorcice Furlong 
Pauline Nichthauser 
Ethel L. Blood 
Elizabeth Furlong 
Helen Mac Go wan 
Margaret Finch 
Josephine Freund 
Eleanor Hussey 
Laurie True Bayley 
Marjorie Gibbons 
Eloise Liddon 
Elizabeth Wilkinson 
Helen Hall Jillson 
Elizabeth Reynard 
Jean Williams 
Emily Tyler Holmes 
Frances Hyland 


James Raiford Wood 
Rolla H. Hedges 
D. G. McGregor 
Sidney D. Gamble 
John Wentworth 
Jeffersen Jones 


Carolyn P. Kidd 
Alice Robinson 
Nathaniel Hathaway 
Jean Patterson 
Geo. Rollin Hippard, Jr. 


Richard Tufts 
Joe L. Mood 
Ruth Patterson 
Ruth Duncan 
Ethel Badgley 
James Bruce 
Florence Carey 
Kate Babcock 
Oscar A. Reum 
Henry M. Noel 
Clyde D. Dick 
E. Arthur Ball 
Harry Behn 
Richard S. Ely 
Sam P. Collier 
Constance Ayer 
Arthur Minot 
Gordon B. Howard 
Madison P. Dyer 
Margaret Stanley- 
Marian L. Flavell 
Carman Vander Voort 
Frederick R. Bailey 
Mary D. Buttemer 
John W. Beatty, Jr. 
Dorothy Keasbey 
Eleanor Williams 
Elizabeth S. Billings 
Brandt V. B. Dixon 
Edwin H. Reum 
Helen B. Nichols 
Pauline Dudley 
Elizabeth S. Backer 
William McDermott 

Harold M. Bales 


Theresa Rion 

Dorothy Q. 

Decie Merwin 
Rachael Bully 
Jacob Weinstein 
Dorothy Starr 
Gladys Nolan 
Helen Irwin 
Edwin Walters 
Helen Moore Sewell 
Helen Spies 
Grace Garland 
Elizabeth Eckel 
Ellen Briggs 
Harry Thomas 
Betty Lisle 
Margaret Roalfe 
Katherine Dulcebella 

Edwin Shear 
Dorothy Howland 

Elsie De Celle 
Stanley C. Low 
Rowena L. Johnson 
Annie Gilzean 

Gladys Schauweker 
Elsie R. Russell 
M. Udell Sill 

Phyllis McVickar 
Harold G. Stanley 
Kathleen Buchanan 
William Penn 

Margaret E. Nicolson 

Helen Lewell Heyl 
Marjorie Acker 
Rachel Doud 
Alice Howard Paine 
Louise F. Dantzebecher 
Helen Nagill 
Margaret Foster 
Elizabeth Finch 
Mary Pauline Hopkins 
Harriette Nason 
Rachel L. Field 
Louise Hickox 
Karen Busck 
Charlotte Baker 
Florence Crane 
Margaret K. Turnbull 
Waldron Faulkner 
Murel Minter 
Eugenie M. Wuest 
Jack B. Hopkins 
Allison Hays 
Seibert Fairman 
Dorothy Taylor 
Henry K. Hannah, Jr. 
Joel D. Harvey 


John F. Keys, Jr. 
Dorothy Foster 
Lucia E. Halstead 
Marian Wright 
Rosamund B. Simpson 
Emery F. Poor 
Margaret Rhodes 
Henry Scott 
Margherita Wood 
Irene Farnham 
Winnifred C. Hamilton 
William Northrop 
Helen E. Prince 
Aline Jean Macdonald 
Edna Comins 
Louise Alexander 

Margaret Duryea 
Katherine McGonnell J 
Frances W. Steele 
Natalie M. Obrig 
Katharine Havens 
Laura Moench 
Evelyn Peterson 
Durrant Currier 
Madeline Burger 
Gertrude Nicolson 
Benjamin Y. Morrison 
Marion Strausbaugh 
Mabel Updegraff 
Theodore L. Fitz 

Susie Durfee 
Maud A. Spear 
Aileene Christy Bower 
Helen Parfltt 
Edith Clement 
Evelyn Buchanan 
Marjorie E. Chase 
J. Lowel Wallis 
Helen Underwood 
Helen Schweikhurdt 
Frederick Schnett 
William Rooks 
Marion D. Freeman 


Martha A. Oathout 

Edwin L. 


Harry Fritz 

Harriet Ida Eager 

Bodil Hornemann 

Max Silverstein 

Mildred S. Lambe 

Edith Parsons 

Alice M. Young 

Paul L. Bissell 

Dorothy P. White 

Louise Davies 

C.W. Veatch 

Frida Tillman 

Ruth Alden Adams 

Charles W. Horr 

Jessica Wagar 

William Moody 

Marshall B. Cutler 

Helen J. McFarland 

Ruth Merritt Adams 

Helen Purdy 

Elizabeth Gardiner 

Paul E. Brady 

George Guinter 

Elizabeth Sears 

P. Knapp 

Margaret E. Kelsey 

Eugenia G. Baker 

Elizabeth Dearing 

William E. Fay 

Stanley R. Humbert 

Eleanor E. Campbell 

Dorothy Louise Dade 

Lemuel Brown 

Lucy Bruggerhof 

H. Lilla Pease 

Gladys Logan Winner 

Laurens Weddell 

Verna Keays 

Marjorie Benson 

Hortense Cramer 

Betty McVikar 

Annie Lamar Noble 

Isabel M. Rettew 

Margaret B. Campbell 
Muriel G. Read 
Mildred Fairchild 
Catherine I. Slocum 
Sarah Lippincott 
Beatrice H. Cook 
Laurena Phillips 
Louise A. Bateman 
Helen Baker 
Dorothy P. Brown 
Agnes Nicholson 
Ada B. Field 
Marie Wilson 
Elizabeth Stockton 
A. Wechster 
Henrietta Browning 
Frances Noble 
Mary M. Ludlum 
Es.ther M. Daly 
Mabel E. Foster 
Rachel Blair 
Virginia Stone 
Elizabeth Taber 
Ruth E. Wright 
Clara B. Bush 
Charlotte P. Smyth 
Margaret Caldwell 
Clara Brush 
Herbert Ross 
Isabel S. Allen 
Carrie F. McDowell 
Margaretta Myers 
Helen B, Walcott 
Joseph Auslander 
Alison Douglas 
Elfrida Nagel 
Esther Christensen 
Helen Clum 
Clifford Standinger 
Fiances T. Sterenson 
Marie Danielson 
Robert Basil Keator 
F. Schultz 
Doris Lisle 
Mary L. Peck 
Elizabeth Thaxter 
George W. Hall 
Josephine Keast 
Helen D. Baker 

Clara Manny 
Helen Kaan 
Victoria Whipple 
Eleanor B. Watt 
Charlotte MacEvan 
Pauline Scanlon 
Jack Wittenberg 
Helen M. Peck 
John B. Mathew, Jr. 
Hobart Fairman 
Marian P. Richardson 
Dorothy Allen Brown 
Efa Prudence Heward 
Mary Alice Tate 
Ralph W. Lester 
Margaret J. Marshall 
Oswald Cammann, Jr. 
Alice W.Hull 
Beryl H. Margetson 
Dorothy A. Brown 
Elizabeth Zulauf 
Frank W. Simpson 
Virginia Sandford 

John J. Draffan 
Margaret Lartz Daniell 
Ethel Shearer 


Helen Tyler 
Anthony Crawford 
Elizabeth Walker Ladd 
Constance Pateman 
Marjorie Aborn 
Alberta Peters 
Katharine Spafford 
Raymond Griffin 
Alice Phelps Rider 
Emily Margaret Hicks 
Florence Conner 
Edith Dean Fanning 
Manon de Hunersdorff 
Rebecca Edith Hill 
Charlotte Laidlow 
Mary H. Oliver 
H. Randall Canfield 
Margurite Mullen 
Susan J. Appleton 
Harriet Eleanor 

Eliza MacLean 

Marguerite Broadman 
Blanche Willis 
Florence M. Ward 
Jeannette Miller 
Mabel G. Seitz 
Oak Amidon 
Mary Lord Holway 
Delos Cissell 
Esther Wolford 
Alice Frances Foster 
Amy Herrick 
Alice Winthrop 

De Wolf 
Helen L. Lawrence 
Erma Quinby 
Denis Higgins 
Albert Lunt 
Mary Louise Milligan 
Myles Higgins 
Jeannette Munro 
Helen Lee Sherwood 
Ruth Hunter 
Thelma Kellogg 
Elizabeth Page James 
Louise Hoffman 
Mary E. Camacho 
Janet Bailey 
Irene Nichols 
William Frances 

Bernard Bronstein 
Edward Sihsky 


Bedros Y. Chekib 
Rivis G. Little 
Margaret T. Babcock 
Dorothy Elizabeth 

Rebecca Wolfson 
G, Gladys Drake 



Mabel Jordan 
Mary Conrad 
Carolyn A. Perry 
Elizabeth Naclay 
Cecile Leona Decker 
Helen Hunt Haines 
Louise M. Anauait 
Katharine Laidlow 
Frances Moyer Ross 

Eleanor Baldwin 
Lucile Olive Thome 
Helen Maclaren 
Mary Widdifield 
Ellen Coleman 
Mary Lydia 

Howard C. Coxe 
Nauna Lake 

Ruth S. Coleman 

Edward N. Horr 

Louise Fitz 

Althea Bertha Morton 

Frances A. Handy 

Grace Lowenhaupt 

Marion F. Hayden 

Dean Jenkins 

C. Lindzey Nicholson 


R. Stuart Wells 
Grace F. Woods 
Elizabeth Knowlton 
Carolyn Holbrook 
Beth Brunei 
Ruth Brunswick] 
Alice Denny 
Gretchen M. GafYga 
Eleanor Steward 

Marian Louise 

Mildred Simonds 
Silence Rowbe 
Grace Taylor 
Catharine Dunlop 

Duncan Scarborough 
Frederick Natus 
Katharine Holway 
Fritz Korb 
Marian Rose Bettmann 

Mary S. Bristed 
Reginald Lowe 
Mary Stan- 
Anne Hawken 
Marcia M. Weston 
Romaine Frampton 
Agnes D. Boone 
Katharine de Kay 
Harriette E. Cusnman 
Guion Pope 
Mary Pearre 
Henry Templeton 
Elizabeth Kirkwood 
Dorothy Edmonds 
Stewart Coryell 
Margaret Normoyle 
Hazel R. Abbott 


E. Adelaide Hahn 
Blanche S. Mason 

Helen Cookston 
Helen P. Herrick 
Emilie O. Wagner 
Katharine Hauxhurst 
Lois Donovan 
Agnes H. Knight 
Louise Otis 
Shirley Clement 
Robert L. Baldwin 

Charles Bayly, Jr. 
Mary Gale Clark 
Dorothy Coleman 
Bertha Pitcairn 
Carrol T. Mitchell 
Joseph W. Homer, Jr. 
Minna Lewinson 
Kenneth V. Ashley 
Isabel W. Clark 
Palmei W. Griffith 
Harold W. Helfrich 


Hereafter we shall print each month a list of those who, because 
they failed to sign their work, or forgot to give their ages, or addresses 
or in some other way did not fulfil League requirements, could not 
enter the competitions. We will begin this list with the names of three 
young illustrators whose work would have been used had it been prop- 
erly prepared : Elmer E. Hagler (no age) ; Dorman Smith (no age) ; 
Miss Ford (no other name, no age, and no address). 


The St. Nicholas League awards gold and silver badges 
each month for the best original poems, stories, drawings, 
photographs, puzzles, and puzzle answers. Also cash 
prizes of five dollars each to gold-badge winners who shall 
again win first place. "Wild Animal and Bird Photo- 
graph " prize-winners winning another prize will not re- 
ceive a second gold badge. 

Competition No. 1.05 will close July 20 (for foreign 
members July 25). Prize announcements to be made and 
selected contributions to be published in St. Nicholas for 

Verse. To contain not more than twenty-four lines. 
Title to contain the word "Rest." 

Prose. Story or article of not more than four hundred 
words. " My Favorite Memory." 

Photograph. Any size, interior or exterior, mounted or 
unmounted; no blue prints or negatives. Subject, " Soli- 
tude. " 

Drawing. India ink, very black writing-ink, or wash. 
Two subjects, "A Landscape," (must be from nature) and 
a November Heading or Tailpiece. Drawings to repro- 
duce well should be larger than they are intended to appear, 
but League drawings should not be made on paper or card 
larger than nine by thirteen inches. 

Puzzle. Any sort, but must be accompanied by the an- 
swer in full, and must be indorsed. 

Puzzle Answers. Best, neatest, and most complete set 
of answers to puzzles in this issue of St. Nicholas. 
Must be indorsed and must be addressed as shown on the 
first page of the "Riddle-box." 

Wild Animal or Bird Photograph. To encourage the 
pursuing of game with a camera instead of a gun. For 
the best photograph of a wild animal or bird taken in its 
natural home: First Prize, five dollars and League gold 
badge. Second Prize, three dollars and League gold badge. 
Third Prize, League gold badge. Fourth Prize, League 
silver badge. 

Any reader of St. Nicholas, whether a subscriber or not, 
is entitled to League membership, and a League badge and 



leaflet, which will be sent free. No League member over 
eighteen years old may enter the competitions. 

Every contribution, of whatever kind, must bear the 
name, age, and address of the sender, and be indorsed as 
"original" by parent, teacher, or guardian, who must be 
convinced beyond doubt that the contributio?i is not copied, 
but wholly the work and idea of the sender. If prose, the 
number of words should also be added. These things 
must not be on a separate sheet, but on the contribution 
itself— -if a manuscript, on the upper margin ; if a picture, 
on the margin or back. Write or draw on one side of the 
paper only. A contributor may send but one contribution a 
month — not one of each kind, but one only. 

Address : 

The St. Nicholas League, 

Union Square, New York. 


The letters on this and the following page are from young 
friends in foreign countries. It certainly makes Europe 
and Asia seem very near when we hear from boys and girls 
who are reading every month, only a little late, the same 
stories that our American readers are enjoying, and are 
entering into the same League contests. 

Tours, France. 
My dear St. Nicholas : I came abroad in March and ex- 
pect to be away from America for a year. I felt so badly 
at the thought of not being able to see St. NlCHOLAS^for 
so long a time that I am having it sent over to me. ' 

My mother and I are living in Tours. It is the city that 
Sir Walter Scott wrote about in his novel, "Quentim D^ir- 
ward." I have been to visit the palace of Louis XI which, 
though a total ruin, is very interesting. 

We have been to fiv.e other chateaux. They were all 
very fascinating and each was interesting in its own way. 
The one I liked best was " Amboise." Our guide took 
us out on an iron balcony and showed us the bar from 
which the Huguenots were hung. We were also taken out 
on the terrace and shown the low stone doorway where 
Charles VIII is supposed to have struck his head, which 
proved to be the cause of his death. 

My oldest sister started taking you in 1880, and we have 
never missed a copy since. 

Your interested reader, 

Evelyn Linderman (age 14), 

Beyrout, Syria. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I thought some of your readers 
would like to hear about the time when I saw the Sultan 
of Turkey. 

I live here in Beyrout at the Syrian Protestant College 
and last summer my grandparents invited me to take a 
trip with them to Constantinople. So on the 20th of July 
my grandfather, grandmother, and I started on the one- 
week voyage to Constantinople. We stopped at several 
ports on the way there, including Rhodes, Smyrna, Dar- 
danelles, and finally we reached the capital of the Empire. 
The city was a lovely sight, as we came into the harbor, 
with the many minarets, mosques, houses, and busy 
crowded streets. 

We were met by Dr. Gates of Robert College and Mrs. 
Washburn, who took us up the Bosphorus to Robert College. 
There we stayed during the fortnight's visit in Constanti- 

I have n't room to write of all the things I saw, but 
there was one thing which interested me most of all. That 
was the sight of the Sultan of Turkey, Abdul Hamid II. 
We got permission to go to Selamlik, from the American 
Ambassador, and on Friday morning about eleven o'clock 
a party of twelve of us started from Constantinople for the 
Palace grounds. When we got there our names were read 
off to be sure that we were the same ones that had been 
given permission to see the Sultan. Then we waited on 
a kind of terrace for some time. Soon after we arrived 
men began to sprinkle sand over the road so that the 
Sultan should have a new road to drive on. 

All the time soldiers were lining up along the road. A 
few minutes before the Sultan came, an officer came to us 
and took away any handbags, purses, umbrellas, etc., that we 
were carrying. They did this, because once a man hid a 
bomb in his camera and as the Sultan was passing, tried to 
throw it at him, but he was unsuccessful. So now they 
take every precaution. 

Suddenly a horseman blew a trumpet and the bands be- 
gan to play the Turkish march, and out of a gate came the 
procession. It was headed by some horsemen, then came 
carriages with high officials, princes, and ladies, and at the 
end came the Sultan, in a carriage drawn by white horses, 
and with the minister of war sitting opposite him. As he 
came along he bowed right and. left, and when he was 
about half way to the Mosque, the soldiers gave the 
Sultan's cheer. After he had entered the Mosque together 
with his son, we waited for twenty minutes or half an hour 
while he was inside at prayer. 

He drove himself back to the Palace in a different car- 
riage, in company with his son, and when he had disap- 
peared from sight, the soldiers began to disperse. Soon after 
that we were in our carriages again driving back to the city. 

It was a grand sight and I only wish that I could de- 
scribe it better. 

My sister has taken your magazine for about nine years 
and I enjoy the stories so much. 

Well, I must stop this letter now as it is getting pretty long. 

Wishing you every success, I am, 

Your interested reader, 

Margaret Bliss (age 15). 

Monterey, Mexico. 
Dear St. Nicholas : The names of my sisters and 
brother are Mary Katharyn, Margaret Lydia, and Samuel. 
Samuel is away at St. Paul's School, and we miss him very 
much. I think that is near where you are. We have two 
Jersey cows, two horses, two carriages and we used to 
have two little calves, but we sold them. 

We have electric cars running on both sides of our house. 
Your interested reader, 

James Pitts Bridge (age 9). 

Kekaha, Kanai, Hawaiian Islands. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I live in the Hawaiian Islands. 
My father is not too old to read out of St. Nicholas, but 
he is over thirty years old. 

My grandmother has the first St. Nicholas that ever 
came into this home, Waiawa. It is the October number, 
1874. It is very old. The story I like best in this old 
one is, " How Charlie Cracked the World." 

My home is on Kanai, and I live farthest away from you 
of all the little white girls of America. 

I have taken you for three months, and I want to tell 
you I love you from cover to cover. 

I have five pets — my cat, Daisy, my dog, Puck, my 
dear Teddy Bear, my horse, Hekili, which means Thunder, 
and my calf, Tossie, named for my grandmother's calf, she 
had a long time ago in New Zealand. The story I like 
best is "The Gentle Interference of Bab." 
Your loving little reader, 

Ruth Knudsen. 

Hawaii being now one of the United States' possessions, 
perhaps we ought not strictly to call this a "foreign " letter. 
It will seem odd for some time to come, to think of a resident 
of the " Sandwich Islands " as a " countryman " of ours, 
especially if he or she is a "native." It is, of course, differ- 
ent, in the case of those of American or European parentage. 

Kensington, London, S. W., England. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have just begun to take you and 
I think you lovely. I think "Tom, Dick, and Harriet" 
are just too killing for words! 



I am an English girl, but I was born in Shanghai, China, 
and I have been to America and Ceylon and Italy and a 
few other places. I think American boys and girls are 
very entertaining and clever. We spend our winters in 
the south of France and our summers in England. I love 
London, but I am not very fond of the country. The chief 
thing that reconciles me to it are my beloved cats. They 
are all common tabby cats, but I love them better than the 
most beautiful cats in the world. We had a darling puppy- 
dog last summer. We named her Patricia. She was a 
very, very small fox-terrier and so clever, but when we 
went to London we had to give her away. 
Your devoted reader, 

Elfride Dorothea Dowdall. 

My dear St. Nicholas: I am a boy born in China. 
I live in the country near Wei Skein (Way Shen) city, in 
an inclosed compound or big yard about two blocks large. 
There are eight dwelling-houses, a boys' and girls' school, 
a college, a big church, and two hospitals. 

A new house is being built (the house we are to live in) 
by Chinese carpenters and masons. 

It will take about eight months to build it. What a long 
time ! The Chinese have no saw-mills, but every log has 
to be cut and sawed by hand. 
I think you are fine. 

Your true friend and reader, 

Henry R. Luce. 

Sydney, New South Wales, Australia. 
Dear St. Nicholas: How shall I thank you for the 
many happy hours you have given me ? We have taken 
you for years, until I love your delightful pages. I have 
read such a number of charming stories there, however, 
that I cannot say which is my particular favorite, but if I 
were to choose three, among the older numbers, they 
would be, " Felix," "Elena's Captive," and "Elinor Arden, 
Royalist." "When Daphne Danced," makes abeautiful 
recitation, and I give it in an eighteenth century costume and 
enter the room, to the music of a minuet. I also find the 
League interesting, and I should like to join it very much. 

Did opportunity offer, I should be pleased to describe 
my home to you, where I live with my parents, sister and 
brother, at Bondi, a. suburb of Sydney, by the mighty 
Pacific. . . . 

With best wishes to dear St. Nicholas, for a long life 
of continued prosperity and fame I remain 
Your young friend, 

Peggy O'Connor (age 12). 

Rock Island, Que. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I am going to write you a letter, 
because I am very interested in your letter-box. 

Once when we were out on a hunting trip at Indian 
River, our old dog Sang, a retriever, was with us. One 
day we were out in the boat shooting ducks. Papa 
wounded one, after which it kept swimming and diving. 

He told Sang to go and get it. Sang obeyed and we did 
not see him for five or ten minutes, but when he came up 
he had the duck in his mouth. 

With best wishes to your letter-box, 

Frances Goodhue (age 10). 

Victoria, B. C. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have never written to you before, 
but I thought you would like to hear about my seeing 
Queen Alexandra of England. Last summer when I was 
abroad with my father and mother, I went to a military 
and naval tournament, held in the Olympia, which seats 
ten thousand people. 

We were fortunate in having seats right opposite the 
Royal Box. 

The King and Queen and several members of the royal 
family were there. Among them was little Prince Henry, 
the youngest son of the Prince of Wales. 

When the Queen was seated, the first thing she did w;as 
to take off her grandson's overcoat. 

My mother said : " That shows the mother in the Queen." 

The Queen looked so young and pretty, and has such a 
gracious manner. 

Your devoted reader, 
Margaret L. Sayward (age 12). 

What young American reader knows what "bar " means 
in the following letter, from a little Australian subscriber ? 

Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. 
My dear St. Nicholas : Whenever we hear the postman 
at the door, there is always a shout : " I bar the St. Nich- 
olas." My auntie, who lives in Crail, sends you out to 
us. I like reading " The Rainy Day Amusements." I 
made a Christmas tree of paper. 

I tried to make Jock (the little monkey), but it was a 
monkey, I must say. I like reading the Letter-Box. I 
would like to be a member of the League. Will you please 
send me a badge and a leaflet. 

I think I have told you all the news. 

I remain your loving reader, 

Alan Murray (age 10). 

Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I like reading "Tom, Dick, and 
Harriet " very much. 

We have got a dear little kitten named "Jet." She has 
got a white spot under her neck, and we call it a diamond 

I go to learn cooking and I get on very well. 

I am in the sixth class at school and have gained my 
Standard Certificate. I hope to gain my Merit this year. 

Will you please send me a leaflet and badge. Then I 
will be able to tell my friends that I belong to a League in 

With every success for the loveliest magazine in the world. 
I remain your loving reader, 

Nancy Murray (age 12). 

Dear St. Nicholas : In the April number of last year 
in the article by Frank Y. Stillman about " Stamp Collect- 
ing," it refers to the Quetzal as a mythical bird; this bird 
really exists and is very beautiful; it is meant to express 
freedom as they say it dies in captivity. My mother saw one 
some months ago. I should like Americans to get inter- 
ested in our little republics and to know them better. 

My brothers and sisters join me in wishing long and 
prosperous life to our dear St. Nicholas. 
Your affectionate reader, 

Victoria Sanchez. 

Dear St. Nicholas: It is the first time I write you. I 
have takeh you for two years but I think every number is. 
prettier. The stories that I love best are : " The Crimson 
Sweater," "Tom, Dick, and Harriet," and "Harry's 
Island." I find them beautiful. 

I 'm a Chilian girl and don't speak and write English 
very well. I 've been learning it for one and a half years. 
My mother and brother are going to Chili for a while and 
we stay with our aunt and uncle. 

I am your faithful and loving reader, 

Olga de Cousino (age 13 1-2). 



New York City. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I have taken you for nearly ten 
years, but I have never written to you before. Please do 
not think this is because I do not like your magazine, for I 
read it from cover to cover every time it arrives. A few of 
my favorite stories are : " The Story of Betty," " Another 
Chance," "From Sioux to Susan," and all of Ralph 
Henry Barbour's stories. 

I think the League is extremely interesting and I hope 
some day to earn a prize. My name was on the honor 
roll last month which gave me great encouragement. 

I was pleased to see a letter from a girl in Oxford, tell- 
ing about the Pageant which was given last June, for I was 
there myself and thought it better than any entertainment 
I had ever seen. 

Wishing dear St. Nick much success I remain forever 
your interested reader, 

Roxana Wentworth Bowen (age 12 3-4). 

San Diego, Cal. 
Dear St. Nicholas: I suppose you and most of your 
readers know that San Diego has just passed through 
" Fleet Week," which, as you can guess, was the week 
the Atlantic Fleet was here. Forty-six hunderd marines 
marched in our parade. Every day was full to overflowing 
with fun. Thursday night we had lovely fireworks ; and 
we were fortunate enough to get a seat on top of the coal- 
bunkers. Every one up there cheered and clapped like 
anything when a picture of Admiral Evans' head was 
shown in fire off the fireworks barge. I am inclosing a 
snapshot I took of the parade. The city and ships were 
illuminated by night and it was a lovely sight indeed. I 
went on the flagship of the second division, the " Georgia." 
I think St. Nicholas is the best magazine for children 
that ever was, and I like the stories better and better every 

Your interested reader, 

Alice Wangenheim (age 12). 

Dear St. Nicholas : I enjoy the St. Nicholas very 
much. And am always waiting for it on the last day of 
the month. 

I have no pets but there is a cat next door which I like 
very much. It is black and a white spot under its chin. I 
often skate. There is a pond back of the house and also 
in front. I live in Upper Montclair which is a branch of 
Montclair. I play games with two playmates. They both 
take the St. Nicholas. I like very much the story for 
"Very Little Folks " and " Harry's Island." I am a new 
subscriber, but my mother would get me the magazines 
most every month. 

Yours sincerely, 
Margaret H. Stillman (age 8). 

P , Iowa. 

Dear St. Nicholas: My aunt has sent you to me for a 
long time. And I like you very much. I read the stories 
for very little folks to my brother. My mother read the 
stories and told them to us. I like to read the letters in 
the St. Nicholas. I learned two pieces in the St. Nich- 
olas and spoke them Thanksgiving and Christmas. 
Yours truly, 

Charlotte Jewell (age 10). 

Chicago, III. 
Dear St. Nicholas : I have been taking you for three 
years and have enjoyed every number. " From Sioux to 

Susan," and " Fritzi," were two of my favorite stories. I 
am also very fond of the Barbour stories, "Tom, Dick, and 
Harriet," and " Harry's Island," which I am reading now 
and find it very exciting. 

I am your loving reader, 

Adelaide Seeberger (age 12). 

B , New York. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am eleven years old and have 
taken the St. Nicholas for four or five years. My father 
used to take it when he was a boy and he used to answer 
the puzzles. He does not have much time to now, but he 
likes to read the Nature and Science part. 

I have also got two or three volumes of " Our Young 
Folks " up to time it joined the St. Nicholas. 
Your sincere reader, 

William D. Woodcock. 

S , Penna. 

Dear St. Nicholas : I am a reader of St. Nicholas and 
like it very much. I herewith send a puzzle and hope to 
see it in print. 


What is it which no one wishes to have, and no one 
wishes to lose ? 

Answer : A bald head. 

Lettie Kinne (age 12). 

This was received too late for the League competition 
published in the June number. 

Dear St. Nicholas: I am sending you a poem that the 
first letter of every line spells Saint Nicholas like this. The 
title is " Home." My age is twelve. 


Swiftly, swiftly I ride over the bounding main. 
And my heart is brimful with joy and glee, 
I am going back home again. 
Now shall the wanderings cease with me, 
Then never more will I plow the sea. 

Never more shall I go to roam, 

I always will stay in the dear old home, 

Ceasing to wish to go away. 

How glad I am, words cannot say, 

Oh ever more will I stay on land, 

Longing no more to grasp adventure's hand, 

And seeking no more a sailor to be, 

Sailing over the great wide sea. 

Yours sincerely, 

Sylvia Holt. 

Other interesting letters, which lack of space prevents our 
printing, have been received from Katherine V. Hicks, 
Marshall Cheney, Eunice Stanly, Ellen M. Camblos, Eliza- 
beth H. Parker, Kathryn Tukey, Robert Trowbridge Sher- 
man, Elizabeth Geraldine Henderson, Harold Ballin, Beetha 
Pitcairn, P. Hanahan, Jr., Dorothy Perry, Gertrude Onken, 
Jean L. McPherson, Lillian L. Kahn, Charlotte Williams, 
Corona Brownlee, Floyd Keser, Frances Burleigh, Blanche 
Deuel, Dorothy Coy Kendall, Helen Day, Madeline Baman, 
Ethel K. Simmons, William E. Gabe, Harriet Evelyn 
Brokaw, Elizabeth D. Brennan, Dorothy Hinchliff. 


Charade. Dis-crete, discreet. 

Triple Beheadings. Pennsylvania. 
Gar-net. 4. Can-not. 5. Par-son. 6. 
Con- vex. 9. Asl-ant. 10. Man-ned. 

Double Acrostic. Primals, Ralph 
Island." Cross-words: 1. Rough. 
5. Holly. 6. Bliss. 7. ' 
n. Union. 12. Rapid. 

1. Sup-ply. 2. Arr-ear. 3. 

Can-von. 7. Bal-lot. 8. 

ir. Unl-ink. 12. Ret-ail. 

Barbour ; finals, " Harry's 

Arena. 3. Leper. 4. Prior. 

Alibi. 8. Rakes. 9. Babel. 10. Opera. 

1. Knob. 2. Nape. 3. 

Lira. 3. Arab. 4. Babe, 

4. Lend. IV. 1. Ends. 2. 

Glen. 2. Line. 3. Enow. 

Interlocking Word-squares: I. 
Opal. 4. Belt. II. 1. Slab. 2. 
III. 1. Abel. 2. Bare. 3. Erin. 
Neat. 3. Dare. 4. Stem. V. 1. 
4. Newt. 

Novel Acrostic : Second row, Rudyard ; fourth row, Kipling. 
Cross-words : 1. Drake. 2. Music. 3. Adept. 4. Cycle. 5. 
Maxim. 6. Brine. 7. Adage. 

Illustrated Numerical Enigma : " Queen Zixi of Ix, or The 
Story of the Magic Cloak." 

Zigzag. Portulaca. Cross-words : 1. Pansy. 2. Soles. 3. 
River. ^ 4. Otter. 5. Unite. 6. Place. 7. Arabs. 8. Acorn. 
9. Abide. 

Double Beheadings and Double Curtailings. First row, Ann 
Hutchinson ; third row, Daniel Webster. 1. Ad-den-da. 2. 
Ne-are-st. 3. No-nag-ed. 4. He-ire-ss. 5. Un-eat-en. 6. Ta- 
lip-ot. 7. Co-war-ds. 8. He-edf-ul, fed. 9. Im-bib-er. 10. 
No-sin-gs. 11. Sa-tin-et. 12. Op-era-te. 13. Ne-rei-ds, ire. 

Double Diamonds. Cross-words : 1. Baron. 2. Impel. 3. 
Abash. 4. Honor. 5. Label. 6. Assay. 7. Armor. 8. Ebony. 
9. Erase. Upper diamond, Rehoboam ; lower, Barnabas. 

Connected Squares: I. 1. Iron. 2. Rove. 3. Oval, 

3. Lima. 4. Lean. III. 
IV. 1. Well. 2. Er 

Nell. II. 1. Nell. 2. Erie. 

2. Live. 3. Evil. 4. Well. iv. 1. well. 2. trie. 
4. Lean. V. 1. Lean. 2. Ease. 3. Asps. 4. Nest. 
Tram. 2. Rose. 3. Asks. 4. Mess. VII. 1. Nest. 

3. Seta. 4. Tram. VIII. 1. Tape. 2. Away. 3. 
Eyes. IX. 1. Nest. 2. Ella. 3. Slap. 4. Tape. 

1. Slew 
3. Lira. 


2. Ever 

To OUR Puzzlers : Answers to be acknowledged in the magazine must be received not later than the 15th of each month, and should be ad- 
dressed to St. Nicholas Riddle-box, care of The Century Co., 33 East Seventeenth St., New York City. 

Answers to all the Puzzles in the April Number were received before April 15th, from "Queenscourt" — Betty and Maury — Maurice 
and his Aunt—" Me and Auntie "—A. P. and J. H. Miller— Elsie, Lacie and Tillie— David I. Hitchcock— Frederic P. Storke— Helen Marshall 
— Lucius C. Boltwood — " Peter Pan and Tinker Bell" — Frieda Rabinowitz — Carolyn E. Hutton — Edna Meyle — Mary Louise Storer — Harriet 
E.Gates — Myrtle Alderson — James A. Lynd — Walker E. Swift— Dorothy Haug — Mary N. Wootten — "Sages and Dunees" — Irving T. Beach 
■ — Edward Juntunen— C. B. Gottlieb — Katharine Brown — Hart Irvine — Pierre W. Laurens — Marjorie Lachmund — Frances Mclver — Kenneth 
Birkin — Cornelia Crittenden — Malcolm B. Carroll — Frances Crosby Hamlet — Frances L. Sittser — Jean, Doris and Edythe — Dorothy Codding- 
ton — Alice H. Farnsworth — Nettie Kreinik — James G Adams — Dorothy Fox — Lois Treadwell — Samuel G. A. Rogers — Emma D. Miller — 
Margaret E. Slocum — Jo and I — Miner and Mother — Jean M. Newton— Ruth Hamilton — Mary H. Oliver— Walter H. B. Allen, Jr. — Randolph 
Monroe — " St. Mary's Chapter " — Miriam Robinson — Mabel C. Franke — Kenneth M. Bixler — Cornelia Gardiner — Ida Finlay — Peggy Shufeldt 
— A. Robert Kirschner — Elizabeth D. Lord — Beatrice Frye. 

Answers to Puzzles in the April Number were received before April 15th, from M. Kennedy, 3 — E. Nay, 2 — H. Anderson, 3 — M. Miles, 
2— M. G Eichelberger, 3— G. Howe, 3— D. West, 3— A. Parker, 3— A. J. Stern, 4— F. Brodrick, 3— D. Gilbert, 2— J. Goldwater, 3— Clay Hay- 
den, 7— E. Selby, 2— L. McArthur, 4— M. C. Allen, 2— A. G. Blodgett, 8— R. Jolly, 2— H. Montgomery, 4— B. T. Abbe, 5— No name, Damascus, 
5— F. S. Bellows, 8— E. Mossman, 8— A. H. Gerberich, 7— E. Chase, 8— R. S. Brown and E. Black, 8— M. K. Culgan, 8— J. H. Anthony, 2— 
D. Scarborough, 7— M. G Bowner, 3— E. Doollette, 2— Polly Prim, 7— W. H. McFerson, 4— V. W. Hoff, 3— A. S. Reid, 6— J. P. Sedgwick, 5 
—A. Underwood, 8— R. B. Patch, 8— A. Brown, 5— A. E. Carpenter, 6— G. E. Jenkins, 7— D. C. Jenkins, 7— K. C. Barnett, 5— M. A. Dole, 4 
— W. Lloyd, Jr., 8 — D. L. Carpenter, 2 — G. Brosseau, 7. 

So many sent in answers to one puzzle that, for lack of space, these cannot be acknowledged. 


(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 

All the words described contain the same number of let- 
ters. When rightly guessed and written one below another, 
the initials will spell the name of a famous American, and 
the fifth row of letters, by taking every other letter, will 
spell the name of another famous American. Their names 
are often associated. 

Cross-words: i. Merry. 2. To sustain. 3. Malicious 
foes. 4. An intimate associate. 5. To make dear. 6. 
Penitence. 7. A plan. 8. One distinguished for his skill 
as a public speaker. 9. Freshest. 


who dresses hair. 7. Freedom from disease. 8. Theat- 
rical representation. 9. A basket for holding scraps of 
paper. 10. Cordate, n. One who determines the con- 
ditions of a handicap. 



(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 


(Gold Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 
All the words described contain the same number of let- 
ters. When rightly guessed and written one below another 
the diagonal (from the upper left-hand letter to the lower 
right-hand letter) will spell the name of a book beloved by 
young people. 

Cross-words: 1. One who keeps house. 2. Of a harsh 
countenance. 3. In a hankering manner. 4. One who 
buys and sells horses. 5. Very jiarrow indeed. 6. One 

5 ■ • 

. 6 


CROSS-WORDS : 1. Certain fruits. 2. Part of a cog- 
wheel. 3. A dress trimming. 4. Daggers. 5. Homes 
of birds. 6. Musical instruments. 7. Part of the body. 
8. A famous Irish king born in 926 A. D. 9. Stopped. 

From 1 to 2, the tops of mountains ; from 3 to 4, to 
color ; from 4 to 6, a water nymph ; from 2 to 5, part of a 




In this numerical enigma the words are pictured instead of 
described. When the various objects have been rightly 
guessed, and the fifty-seven letters set down in proper or- 
der, they will spell a quotation from Wendell Phillips. 


Cross-words : I. In abide. 2. Two letters in abide. 

3. A number. 4. To make light. 5. A bird's claw. 6. 
A white fur. 7. An explanatory drawing. 8. Two let- 
ters in ended. 9. In ended. 

From 1 to 2, to hinder; from 2 to 3, a color ; from 3 to 

4, a cave; from 5 to 4, human beings; from 6 to 5, to 
cram; from 6 to 7, a color; from 8 to 7, a conjunction; 
from 8 to 9, assistance; from 10 to 9, a masculine nick- 
name; from 1 1 to 10, to strike; from 11 to 12, one of an 
ancient race; from 1 to 12, a large box. 

ronald martin FOSTER (League Member). 


When the following names have been rightly guessed, the 
initial letters will spell a pleasant season. 

Cross-words (of equal length) : 1. An Australian state. 
2. An ocean. 3. One of the United States. 4. Another 
of the United States. 5. An Australian state. 6. One of 
the United States. 7. The great island group of the South 
Pacific Ocean. 8. One of the United States. 

DAVID M. Brunswick (League Member). 


Example : Add a dish to a weight, and make a city. An- 
swer, Can-ton. 

1. Add an organ to a reservoir for water, and make a 
city. 2. Add a popular young lady to secure, and make a 
city. 3. Add a kind of meat to a town, and make a city. 
4. Add a dangerous missile to a body of water, and make 
a city. 5. Add lineage to a dwelling place, and make a 
city, 6. Add conflict to a common implement, and make 

a city. 7. Add a low-growing plant to a quadruped, and 
make a city. 8. Add a figure to roomy, and make a city. 
9. Add a useful substance to depart, and make a city. 10. 
Add a pouch to a nickname for a parent, and make a city. 
II. Add fortune to the present time, and make a city. 12. 
Add a plank to a letter, and make a city. 



(Silver Badge, St. Nicholas League Competition) 
My primals and finals each name an important country. 

Cross-words (of equal length) : 1. Mingled with. 2. 
One of the United States. 3. Mistake. 4. Kingdom. 
5. A large country. 6. To fasten securely. 7. Dress. 



* * # 

I. Upper Square: i. Yawns. 2. Part of a church. 
3. An exclamation of contempt. 4. Flushed with success. 
5. An underground drain. 

II. Left-hand Square: i. At a low price. 2. To 
call out. 3. A joint of the body. 4. Solitary. 5. Force. 

III. Central Diamond: i. In water. 2. A bev- 
erage. 3. Something often served with the beverage. 4. 
State of the atmosphere. 5. Of a grayish-white color. 6. 
A number. 7. In water. 

IV. Right-hand Square: i. Portions. 2. Sepa- 
rately. 3. Proportion. 4. Experiment. 5. An ecclesi- 
astical garment. 

V. Lower Square: i. A mark used by writers and 
proof-readers. 2. Overhead. 3. A bird. 4. To dis- 
possess by a judicial process. 5. Canvas dwellings. 

JAMES A. LYND (Honor Member). 




" All rights secured" 

July 1908 

St. Nicholas League Advertising Competition No. 81. 

Time to hand in answers is up August 25. Prizes awarded in October number. 

Special Notice : This competition is open 
freely to all who may desire to compete, with- 
out charge or consideration of any kind. 
Prospective contestants need not be subscrib- 
ers for St. Nicholas in order to compete for 
the prizes offered. See requirements as to 
age and former prize-winning below. 

For competition No. 81, we wish to give 
another chance to the artists among the com- 
petitors, arid therefore the prizes named be- 
low are offered for the best illustration to any 
one of the following advertisements : 

Swift's Premium Ham and Bacon. 
(Bringing in a new drawing of the little 

Egg-O-See Cereal Company. 
(Bringing in a drawing of Toasted Corn 
Flakes being served at breakfast.) 

Diamond Dyes. 

(A drawing showing two figures.) 

Eastman Kodak Company. 
(Either a drawing or a photograph repre- 
senting the use of a camera by children.) 

Peter's Chocolate. 

(A drawing of the well-known mountaineer, 
not a copy of one of the published pictures.) 

Ivory Soap. 

(A drawing illustrating the . fact that the 
cake will float.) 

Libby's Food Products. 
(A drawing showing a maid in the usual 

Huyler's Confections. 

(A drawing of a child with a box of candy.) 

Your drawing must be in black and white, 
either in outline or in wash, and must not be 
larger than twelve inches on a side. 

For the best answers received in this competi- 
tion the following prizes will be awarded : 

One First Prize of $5. 
Two Second Prizes of $3 each. 
Three Third Prizes of $2 each. 
Ten Fourth Prizes of $1 each. 

The following are the conditions of the 
competition : 

1. Anyone under 18 years of age may compete for a 
higher prize than he or she has already won in the Ad- 
vertising Competitions. See special notice above. 

2. In the upper left-hand corner of your paper, 
give name, age, address, and the number of this com- 
petition (81). Judges prefer paper to be not larger 
than 12 x 12 inches. 

3. Submit answers by August 25, 1908. Use ink. 
Write on one side of paper. Do not inclose stamps. 
Fasten your pages together at the upper left-hand 

4. Do not inclose request for League badges or 
circulars. Write separately for these if you wish 
them, addressing ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE. 

5. Be sure to comply with these conditions if you 
wish to win prizes. 

6. Address answers: Advertising Competition 
No. 81, St. Nicholas League, Union Square, New 
York, N.Y. 


This contest belonged by its nature among 
those in which the chief requisite in order to 
win prizes was great care, and yet the judges 
have regretfully to confess at the very outset 
of their report that the puzzle as printed in 
the May number contained two misprints. 
AVe do not know how these came through the 
careful reading that was given to the proofs, 
but possibly these errors were designed to 
teach the judges the humility which none of 
them will confess to be needed. At all events 
in No. 18 of the combinations Clicquot was 
printed without the second " c," and the word 
Pears' had the apostrophe before the "s." 
Besides these two errors, the name Whitman 
and the name Waterman were printed without 
an apostrophe and " s " although it is certain 
that in nearly every case the possessive of 
these names is used by the advertisers in con- 
nection with the things named. 

Thus, having made a frank confession, we 
are sure of your forgiveness ; but at the same 
time, despite your forgiveness, there remained 
the question of what is fair toward the com- 
petitors misled by these errors. A number of 
you wrote to make inquiry in regard to them, 
and were told that in all the competitions cor- 
rectness was desired even if the error existed 
in the competition terms themselves. 

The judges' first impression was in favor 
of not counting among the thirty-four terms 
the two or the four where the printing of the 
puzzle might have misled you. But as the 
examination of the hundreds of answers 
proceeded, it was found that a very large 
proportion of the competitors had seen and ' 
corrected the manuscripts, showing that they 
had gone to the original advertisements in 
order to come upon the correct form. It was 
likewise remembered that in the same number 
with Competition No. 79 was printed a report 
pointing out that Pears' should be possessive 

See also page 8. 


"Diamond Dye Days" 

Open-window Weather — Just the Day for Dipping — Just the Weather for Drying 
Right Now, when Household Tasks are Light — When you have Plenty of Time to Look 
Ahead toward Fall and Winter — When Everything Favors and Nothing Interferes. 

Now is the Pleasantest 
Dyeing with 

It 's Fun to Dye with Diamond 
Dyes — and This is Why: — 

— The work is always finished on the day you 
begin it. 

— Your task can be just as large or just as small as 
you like. 

— You can dye the dress you are going to wear 
to-morrow — or the overcoat your boy will be 
wearing this Winter. 

— You can dye dresses without ripping them, or tak= 
ing them apart — without even taking off the 

— You can dye furniture hangings, covers and house= 
hold draperies, curtains, etc., before putting 
them away— or you can put them back on the 
furniture and on curtain-rods the same day. 

-You can dye ribbons almost in a minute — wash 
dresses in less than an hoar — your whole Winter 
wardrobe between breakfast time and lunch. — 

Time of All the Year for' 
Diamond Dyes 

Pleasure, Interest, and Saving, — 

Some Suggestions for these 

Diamond Dye Days. 

— Change the color of Wash-Dress. 

— Change the color of a Summer Waist. 

— Change the color of your Ribbons, Stockings, 

Sashes, etc. 
— Change the whole appearance of Your Room, by 

changing the colors of furniture Covers, 

Rugs, Curtains, etc. 
— Prepare * f New" Cloth for Fall Dressmaking. 

Even if your Fall dressmaking will not begin for some 
weeks, do your Dyeing to-day, while the weather is fine, 
while kitchen windows are wide open, and while the work 
dries so well in the open air. 

You have plenty of time now to get the full enjoyment of your 
Dyeing. Look up the Winter overcoats, cloth skirts, waists, 
jackets, etc. A few hours' work to-day will double, or triple, 
the pleasure and ease of your Fall and Winter dressmaking. 

"When I first started using Diamond Dyes I occasionally dyed an old waist or skirt in the Fall or Spring. I really did n't 
appreciate Diamond Dyes then. Now I have what I call my regular Diamond Dye Days. I plan ahead and look over all of 
our ribbons, stockings, ties, trimmings, waists, skirts, — in fact our entire wardrobe, and select everything that is a little faded 
or spotted, or old-looking : and then decide on the colors I want for each — usually about three different colors — and dye one 
color at a time. It is so easy, and although I live in an apartment and have only a small gas stove, I always get through by 
noon and have my little clothes line full of bright, fresh, new-looking things. I honestly believe that Diamond Dyes are the 
most delightful and best method of economy I could possibly practice." MRS. C. H. JENKINS New York City 

Important Facts about Goods to be Dyed: 

The most important thing in connection with dyeing is to be sure you get the real Diamond Dyes. 

Another very important thing is to be sure that you get the kind of Diamond Dyes that is adapted to the article you intend to dye. 

Beware of substitutes for Diamond Dyes. There are many of them. These substitutes will appeal to you with such false claims as " A 
New Discovery " or " An Improvement on the Old Kind." Then the " New Discovery " or the " Improvement " is put forward as " One Dye 
for all Material," Wool, Silk or Cotton. "We want you to know that when any one makes such a claim he is trying- to sell you 
an imitation of our Dye for Cotton, Linen and Mixed Goods. Mixed Goods are most frequently Wool and Cotton combined. If 
our Diamond Dyes for Cotton, Linen and Mixed Goods will color these materials when they are together, it is self-evident that they will 
color them separately. 

We make a Special Dye for Wool and Silk because Cotton and Linen (vegetable material) and Mixed Goods (in which vegetable material 
generally predominates) are hard fibers and take up a dye slowly, while Wool and Silk (animal material) are soft fibers and take up the dye 
quickly. In making a dye to color Cotton or Linen (vegetable material) or Mixed Goods (in which vegetable material generally predomi- 
nates), a concession must always be made to the vegetable material. 

No dye that will color Cotton or Linen (vegetable material) will give the same rich shade on Wool or Silk (animal material) that is obtained 
by the use of our Special Wool Dye. 

Diamond Dyes are anxious fo r yo ur success the first time vou use them. This means your addition to the vast number of women who are 
regular users of Diamond Dyes. When dyeing- Cotton, Linen or Mixed Goods, or when you are in doubt about the material, 
be sure to ask for Diamond Dyes for Cotton. It you are dyeing- "Wool or Silk, ask for Diamond Dyes for Wool. 
»*k. j |-k » 1 C Send us your name and address (be sure to mention your dealer's